Story #1

Story script for first RPG venture
Hello, and thank you for viewing this. As you know, this is the introduction to the RPG i have made.It may not be interesting to you. You may even find it excessively tedious so I dont mind if you give up reading half way cos i wrote this firstly for fun and secondly to provide myself a solid story for the RPG(so i dont keep changing parts of the game when i feel like it, making the game very sketchy). Anyway I stillhope you will enjoy reading this story and the game.
Chapter 1: Background
People tell of an evil king who once lived in a faraway land. He bred all sorts of vilecreatures and summoned demons into his service as an army unmatched by any single military force in number.They marched throught the continent ruining crops and villages, plundering what they wanted, burning all they didn't. The strong survivors were taken back as slaves to build the weapons and siege engines that facilitate the summoner's campaign to dominate all territory within his reach. The weak were left to the remainder of their pitiful lives. The summoner's army flooded the land like a black tide.
Their victory was total. Almost. One final kingdom, Rennon, led by King Archibald, stood fast, surviving by the wits of their commanders and the courage of their knights. They used hit and fade tactics, ambushing convoys and destroying war factories when the enemy least expected.
The summoner King realised that his army outnumbered Archibald's rag tag force three to one. The onlyreason they hadn't fallen yet was because of their indomitable spirit. All he had to do was to demoralise them...... He realised that it wouldn't be possible to dampen their spirits through casualties or setbacks. He hadto strike at the source; their beloved Princess Ciralen (pronounced Sir-Ellen), that will either make them losetheir morale, or drive them mad.
Quickly he devised a plan. If Archibald didn't fall fast, he may start to be a real threat. A task force consisting of a wyvern and several dark knights was to fly them to the princess' private garden when she went there for her daily gardening activities, and bring her back alive. She only hadone bodyguard, his spies reported. He should be a breeze to dispatch for the elite task force. According to the spies, the guard was as young as the princess and had never seen any action in combat. He grinned.....The wyvern would fly low so the lookouts wouldn't spot them. This was a new tactic, Archibald wouldn't see itcoming. He couldn't wait to see the faces of Archibald's troops when he hung Ciralen's mangled body from hisbattlements. The task force would prepare for three days, then they would strike.....
Chapter 2: Action!
Sir Derrick opened his eyes and rolled them towards the window on the left of his bed. He had awoken before the break of dawn, as was his usual practice. As he sat up in his bed, a chill wind came in through thewindow. His intuition warned him of looming disaster. Most would have brushed away the thought, but his intuition was always accurate. Stretching his limbs, he warmed up for his daily weapons practise.
At 19 years of age he was the youngest knight in King Archibald's service. Gifted with razor sharp wits,nimble intelligence and deep wisdom, he came from a bloodline of swordfighters, who, though not widelyacclaimed, used an ancient technique passed down for generations. Unsurprisingly, he had never lost a duel.Derrick reached for the weapon stand where his dual blades stood docilely in their intricately carved sheaths. He drew the first sword respectfully as was the start of his routine. The smooth silky metallic sound resonatedoff his room wall, unmingled with the sound of daily hustle and bustle. The steel reflected two cool, placiddark brown eyes with double eyelids. As he drew the blade, he slowly dropped into a low, war stance, weight shifted forwards for speed. Once fully in his stance, he whipped the rest of the blade out of its place of peace and the air vibrated with the sudden energy, ringing like a bell. He worked slowly through his routine of parries, cuts and evasive moves. He had learnt the ancient techniques perfectly. He progressed through theroutines, single sword, two swords, linked swords. The ability to use two swords joined at the hilt is powerfulbut difficult, but never acknowledged by the other knights who teased him as the only one who had no shieldand hence no coat of arms. The moves were vigorous, having to harness the gyroscopic effect of linking two swords, the family heirlooms. The dual twirling blades whistled as they cut the air and flashed when they reflected the candle light. Breathing hard and sweaty at the end of his practise, he sheathed the swords andwent to the bath. He thought of the day's duties as he soaked in the freezing cold water.
The princess would not be up and about for another hour. He smiled as he thought of her. He was verymuch in love with her. They first met when he was assigned to be her bodyguard four years ago. She always spoke to him as she tended her little garden in the mornings and as he followed her through the day'sactivities. He was her age and she often confided in him. Of course he never forgot he was on duty and knewwhere to draw the line. Though he never said much, she seemed to know a lot about him, his likes and dislikes.He glanced at the vase of blue flowers from her garden and grinned. Though she was royalty, she was alwaystreating him like a friend. But then he reminded himself that it had to end some day, and winced. She may never have taken her royalty too seriously, but he was sure that her parents did. Ciralen was sure to marry a prince of some sort, a low ranking knight like him did not have a chance. Finishing off the last of his brushing, he dried himself and began to put on his ceremonial armour. Leather boots with steel shin guards,leggings polished to perfection the previous night, a solid breastplate, leather gloves backed with steel,a polished leather belt and finally, a steel helmet topped with red horse hair and with a retractable faceplate. He then clipped the swords to his belt, did a double check on his appearance to make sure he acedthose unannounced inspections and marched to the princess' quarters.
He had been standing at attention outside her room doors for about fifteen minutes before he heard movement on the inside. From the sounds emitted he could picture the goings on, Ciralen brushing off her blanket, the maid's excessively tedious rendition of 'good morning'. The clatter of silver indicating the serving of breakfast, all lasting, as always, a total of ten minutes. Then came the maid's polite dismissal,the nervous, hasty pitter patter of the maid's feet on the marble floor and the creak of the door opening.Derrick quickly pressed his back against the wall so that the rushing servant wouldn't get a concussion from slamming into his solid steel shoulder plate. Shaking his head and smiling, he responded to Ciralen's callfrom inside to join her.
She motioned for him to sit down at the quaint little tea table as she poured him some tea in a little teacup. He closed the door behind him and proceeded to lean his swords and helmet against the wall.He seated himself and grinned at the cup of tea and then the light blue night gown garbed Ciralen. Sugar andextra milk, as his tastebuds soon found out, as he liked it. Impressive, she seemed to know him more everyday. "So, havent converted to the bow?" she inquired playfully, looking at her spread. "Nope, swords are still the only 'arme blanche", he replied. He had the library to thank for his self taught eloquence. "Forgive me if I don't say much," said the princess eyeing him coyly, "but i'm starving. We can havea tete a tete later in the garden."
He smiled and sipped his tea. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he waited till she seemedcompletely absorbed in her eggs then began to peruse her face. Her light brown hair was messy from the night's sleep, the long straight strands extending down to her shoulders, framing her face. Her thin eyebrows complimented her wide brown eyes matching his and exquisite long eyelashes. All the while in his heart was an intense burning sensation. Fiery passion matched with a nerve wracking anticipation that she would catchhim in the act. He fought internally, his subconcious ringing every alarm bell, telling him to stop staring or get caught, his will fighting to keep his eyes on her face. The battle was so intense that everything else including his breathing seemed to stop.
"You're looking at me again," she said as she carved a piece out of her scrambled eggs and speared it neatly with her fork, not looking up. He breathed in deeply at the sudden release of tension. His cheeks burning, he took a long sip of the pale white drink that burned its way down his throat, warming his cold empty stomach. He then stared blankly at his drink, breathing its mild fragrance of milk and tea, not catching the slight smile on Ciralen'sface. He chided himself for getting caught for the second time this week as she finished her breakfast. He kept his back to her bedside as she got dressed, and quickly grabbed his weapons and helmet as she left the room, following a half step behind her.
It was still rather early in the morning as they crossed the marble paved courtyard,passing the white fountain which serves as a dial (the courtyard is a giant sundial), the sky was still darkblue and all was quiet except for their footsteps on the stone pavement of the castle. They then followed a colourful stone path shaded by trees. Once outside and out of sight, the princess fell back to walk side by side with him, stepping playfully and describing the absolute feeling of clumsiness during the previous day'sfencing lesson. He had seen it all of course, from his post beside the door. He always pulled down his face plate during her various lessons, mostly because he could not help laughing (especially during the fencing).
She always told him that she learned more about fencing from him than from the teacher who was alwaysover emphatic about the technical aspects rather than the actual art. Sure, he had given a few pointers, butit was an obvious exeggeration, so he thought. Her conversation flitted from language to books to plants, herspeech ever lively, like a girl who had not a care in the world. All this while he kept silent vigil beside her. She paused from her preening of a rose bush as the sun peeked over the mountainous horizon, painting the sky blood red. They say that when a red sun rises, there was a bloodbath the night before.She must be worried sick about her father in his latest sortie. After a few minutes, Derrick's keen ears caught a faint whisper from Ciralen and knelt on one knee beside her. When he caught her glance, her eyes were brimming with tears. She could say nothing, but her eyes revealed all. He looked down. In all hiseloquence he found no words to say.
Then from the corner of his right eye he saw the sun go out then come back again. He sprung to his feet, and the princess drew a thin rapier from her flowing gown. She had seen it and suspected something too. He raised his eyebrows. These were times of war, but he didn't expect this from her. They stood back toback in the garden, hearts pounding. He had drawn both his swords ready to defend her to the death. He knew how adept (or inept rather) she was with the rapier. She was no match for an assasin. What he didn't know wasthat they wanted her alive, at least for now. They just wanted HIM out of the way. The princess' dress billowedfrom a gust to the north. Intuitively, he turned to face it. After a few minutes of waiting, nothing had happened......
Perhaps it was just a bird, he thought as he put away his swords, surprised to find a rose tied to the scabbard. At that moment neither he nor the princess, relieved that it was a false alarm, saw the shape rising out of the northern conifer forest. Derrick heard a loud flap, followed by an increasingly loud whistle. He automatically recoiled as a crossbow bolt ripped through the air, tearing off his faceplate and pinning it to a tree. An unearthly shreik pierced the air and he did a nimble backward roll miliseconds before two huge clawed feet raked through the flower bed and impaled a tree, ripping it out by its roots.The princess was alsoon the ground beside him as the creature spun around, forming a whirlwind that spun the vast number of assortedpetals upwards in the shape of a ring, dictating the area of engagement. The wyvern surged forward and threedark knights jumped off its back. One of them was the shooter of the crossbow and lifted his weapon again, drawing a bead on Derrick's head. The bolt tore through the gap between predator and prey, threatening to add Derrick's skewered head to the dark knight's collection of ghastly trophies. In one fluid motion, Derrick drew his left handed sword and bisected the bolt in midflight, either piece hitting a tree each and quivering.Disgusted, the black knight threw down his crossbow and signalled a charge. Derrick grinned "arme blanche".
The most fleet footed knight reached his position only to have Derrick's right handed sword drawn and shoved under his visor. He used his left sword to parry the next knight's feeble horizontal swing and drew his right sword from under the visor to give this second combatant a split personality. His swords rung as he spunthem a full circle and brought them back up in a defensive position. When his two slain assailants sank to theground, he looked about for the next one and saw him trying to disarm the desperately slashing princess. He ran, the last few petals brushing his face as they fell, the air a myriad of blue, pink and red.His feet lightly tapping the ground despite his heavy boots, towards the princess. Using the time he had,he locked both swords at the hilt forming a dual bladed weapon. The princess' glance gave away any chance he had of a back stab and the knight turned to face him, gripping his long sword, but not beforegiving Ciralen a bash with his shield, sending her flying. The dark knight's eyes widened behind his visor as he saw Derrick come charging, a circle of whirling blades on his right. Even as the captain of the task force,the most adept of the three, all he could do was hold up his shield and sword and flinch. A metallic whine filled the air as Derrick's fury matched the ancient technique of his fathers. Within seconds, all that wasleft of the shield rather resembled a pile of toothpicks. Derrick dropped into a quick crouch slashing atthe knight's legs and decimating his shin guards. As the knight lost control of his legs and was dropping into a kneeling position, Derrick spun one round to the right. Drawing his strength from the earth, as he wastaught, he pressed his left foot into the ground let the energy flow up his leg and torso and into his left arm. Holding his weapon like a staff, Derrick pushed with his left arm and pulled with his right, slamming the blade into the captain's thick mithril breastplate with an upward sweep. The tons of pressure easily sliced through the breastplate, the back piece exploding in a shower of flying metal as thecaptain's knees hit the ground. Derrick stopped his cut just as the blade was parallel to the ground so as to avoid splitting the man completely in two. Withdrawing the weapon, he realised the wyvern was long gone. Thoughit was thirsty for blood, its pilot bugged out, realising the mission could not be accomplished. Just then,the last flower petal hit the ground. The fight was over.
Exhausted, Derrick stumbled over to the princess. She was leaning against a huge pine tree, her notched rapier on the floor beside her. She was still panting after her violent exertion and the shield bash but looked fine, thankful she hadn't been killed, or worse, taken hostage to be tortured to death slowly in the summonerking's secret dungeons. Relieved that she was otherwise unhurt, Derrick leaned his shoulder wearily againstthe tree and slumped to the ground, removing his all but destroyed helmet and throwing it aside.
"Some bodyguard you are." Ciralen wheezed. They both grinned. They were so shocked they felt nothing, and just sat there leaning on the same treebeside each other, her head on his shoulder, his head on hers, eyes closed. That was exactly how the guards, alerted by the sounds of a battle, found them.
Chapter 3: It's WAR!!
News of the audacious attempt at kidnapping Ciralen and the smooth annihilation of the elite task force by Sir Derrick soon reached Archibald's ears. It threw him and his army into a feral rage all right,but this worked against the summoner king when they launched the most relentless offensive he had ever seen.Within a month all but his strongest fortress had fallen to Archibald's hurricane. During the final siegehe escaped through a secret sally gate and rode off in the night with his chief general, never to be seen again.
Chapter 4: Resolution
King Archibald returned victorious to his home, his army in tow, the citizens throwing petals like confetti. When all the banqueting was over, Archibald embarked on a massive reconstruction project whichhe personally supervised, so as to get the country, mainly farmers, back on their feet. The princess had since somewhat recovered from the traumatic incident and was back at her lessonsand gardening, talking, lively as ever, to Derrick as she breezed through each day. Derrick himself was awarded half a dozen new titles, most unofficial, but coined affectionately by people from all walks of life. He was also given a beautiful new helm (retractable visor, of course) by theking himself to replace his wrecked one. Even his swords were renamed, "the blades that won the war" and"the steel whirlwind" among others. Allegedly the king liked one of the names and planned to place them, with Derrick's permission, in the Hall of Rennon's Kings with the title, embossed in gold, on the marble pedestal.The King denies all allegations with a curious smile, saying he was quoted out of context.
Chapter 5: A Nightmare Come True
On a lazy saturday morning, after their usual secret breakfast together (he is supposed to stand beside the door), Ciralen was summoned to the king's prescence by the ever hasty maidservant. Derrick wonderedif it had anything to do with the four horsemen who came early in the evening the previous day, seeking theking's audience. Fortunately his visor kept a straight face for him, but inside he had a premonition of impending doom, and his expression could not help showing it.
The two of them casually made their way down the hundred metre long corridor leading to the throne room, the moderate tapping of Ciralen's feet on the tiles accompanying the dull thud of his leather boots with each slow stride. Ciralen paused outside the door, Derrick a half step behind her. She stepped back inher usual dainty fashion and placed a hand on his shoulder. His head bowed conspicuously. He had already guessed the meaning of this early meeting with the King. He had seen this coming. It wasn't a surprise. Yetthe feeling of dissapointment weighed on him like a ton of bricks. With his left hand he slid the visor fullyover his face and felt the locking mechanism click shut. The intricately carved steel would be his visage whenhis face was twisted with anguish and flooded with tears.
In an instant, memories of their friendship flashed before his eyes. He imagined what the future would be, the princess would go away with her groom to live in his castle. But she would be happy there, and thatwas good enough. She was sure to miss him, but he had to show himself strong, so she could leave with her husband without the guilt and a niggling memory of a scruffy young knight whom she once knew and whose heart she once broke.
He straightened, and reminded himself, he was a knight, under the service of the princess. Just another servant, just another subject. Ciralen had given him her friendship despite the status gap. It was more thanhe deserved, he could ask nothing more. It was just a dream, and it was about to end. He would retire, and live a simple life as a farmer, immersed in life's simple joys, far from the rank and file propriety of the castle.
Resolute, he snapped to attention and stepped smartly forwards, his breath slowly escaping his lips ashe pushed the heavy door open for Ciralen. He waited till she was inside before moving in and closing the door and waiting on her beside her seat. Inside was a long oak table, with two men on either side, richly decorated nobles. Their entry was greeted by frantic murmuring as the four men rose, waiting for the princessto take her seat at the near end of the table. King Archibald was seated at the far end on a tall chair of polished cedar wood. One of the nobles dismissed Derrick with a disdainful flick of his hand, and Derrick turned to leave.
'He is my advisor and bodyguard, and shall stay throughout the proceedings.' came the familiar honeyedged voice. He turned again smartly, with raised eyebrows behind his impenetrable visage. Four other rather surprised pairs of eyes glanced at the princess and the king in turn, but the king nodded and he stayed anyway.The following conversations dragged over lunch and dinner, with the men introducing themselves, bragging abouttheir exploits in the wars of their faraway lands. Derrick stood beside the princess' chair through it allas they held their conversations over four days. Always he had his eyes closed, breathing deeply, hands resting on the hilt of his right handed sword, listening for any kind of trouble. Every once in a while heconsidered making one of the arrogant suitors swallow a sword but kept so perfectly still that the king later told him that he resembled a decorative suit of armour.
Each of the four suitors had had a day to boast and now on the fifth day came the moment of truth.Derrick's eyes were closed as usual, the king, princess and suitors were once again at the oak table in the king's hall. The usual greetings and formalities. Derrick could picture the scene in the room during the longpause, even with his eyes closed. He could hear the flicker of multiple torches gracing the wall, the soft slither of clothing against the chairs' cushions as each prince leant forward intently and Ciralen's light pacing.
"Each of you have presented yourselves in turn and I have weighed your individual personalities." Shebegan as she continued pacing. "I must say first of all, that you are all perfectly fine gentlemen, but Ican unfortunately only marry one of you." Slight laughter around the table. "Having said that, here is my decision. Of all of you here to win my heart, I am most taken by thefirst to present himself." An excited murmur from the first gentleman. Derrick could almost see his gaudyexpression. "You have shown yourself a courageous warrior, a wise advisor and a loyal friend." Derrick frowned,a loyal friend!?!? She had just met them! Something was up. "Congratulations, you have been chosen to be my groom. As for the rest of you, leave in peace and may you find your love in due time."
The whole room went silent. After thirty seconds, Derrick couldn't stand the suspense. The lucky guyhadn't even said a thing! His eyes shot open and he jumped backwards startled at the sudden sight of a handholding a flower to his face. Its owner was grinning and shaking her head. The king, still on his wooden perch started applauding frantically while the four others stared at each other in disbelief. To the end of his days Derrick could always picture Ciralen at that moment, in her loose fitting white gown, holding a blue flower and the musical chime of her laugh.
At the end of it all, after the guests had left, the king was walking down the corridor with an armaround the shoulders of a somewhat bewildered Derrick, Ciralen beside them unable to stop smiling. "Well, my man, it appears we were all fooled. Meaning you no harm but i never knew of any romance between you two. It is the right age for her to marry you know? So I sent out an invitation and picked out thefour finest gentlemen, not the best i've ever seen, but they would have done fine," said Archibald, wildly gesticulating with his free hand, "My, my, never did I guess that she had taken a liking to the noblest of my knights!......"
It appeared the king had no end of words to say, neither could Ciralen stop grinning, nor could Derrickstop scratching his head (helm rather). So it was that they were married and spent endless days at Ciralen's garden and Derrick's new vegetable patch, tending to each other's plants. In the library they studied and discussed literature and books, among other things they did. Derrick politely declined the life of a prince, but remained Ciralen's bodyguard, advisor and friend, a servant husband, so to speak. When Ciralen's brother Arthur succeeded Archibald to the throne, they requested that they retire from palace life to live in a village, enjoying a simple life together. And so they were given governance ofa small farming village in a continent to the north, where they and their generations thereafter governedand protected the livelihoods of the simple folk.......