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The next installment of my Tales of the Past series! Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven, for those who are curious. Part Eight is below. Justice! The plea rang in Kalaflar’s ears. He stood bareheaded before the grave. First his uncle – then Gascoyne – now his adopted father – who was this black knight, that he hunted him and all he loved down with such relentless persistence? Kalaflar’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightened. Whoever he was, he must be found – caught – brought to justice! With the force of his resolve he swung around and the gravel spurted out from under his feet as he strode off to make his way in the world once again. Overview: I know the last two have been pretty small, but hopefully I can step up the size for the next part of this story! I did enjoy using my olive and dark green for this one though. Comments are welcome!
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Part One Part Two Part Three As the days past the two youths became good friends, often rambling throughout the mountains, spending many a happy hour in the lonely solitudes and rocky fastnesses. One day, Gascoyne took Kalaflar out to a favorite haunt of theirs. After some time, Gascoyne finally began to tell Kalaflar his story. "Many years ago," he began, "Kaliphlin was overrun by a proud, evil knight who claimed all the land as his and punished any noble who did not accept his authority. There were many who would not consent to his evil practices, but gradually he grew in power, and as he did so he either killed opposing nobles or forced them to come to his side out of fear. My father, to escape the fate of the rest of his companions, fled to the Rakath mountains. The knight gathered a huge army, intent on storming our fortress, but, with a few loyal soldiers, my father waited for him along the sides of one of the most dangerous chasems of the mountains. When the knight reached the place, the soldeirs began loosning and trowing down rocks and boulders on tome of them, and one of these killed the knight. His son - a man of even more of a firey temper - vowed vengance, but was forced to a hasty retreat. On returning, he found Kaliphlin in turmoil. Rumor had reached them of the death of the knight, and with one accord all turned against his son. It was all he could do to keep his own lands, but the grip he had on other lands was broken. This all happened only a few years before Dextrus Flagg came to power. In retaliation to Flagg's attempt to take the thrown though, the knight's son has gathered a band of like minded rogues and is making a desperate resistance." Turning to Kalaflar he added, "I don't know how much of this you were aware of. But we are now certain that it was a party of that same knight's men who slew your Uncle's party. Word reached us, just days ago, that Flagg has sent several of his ablest generals to cope with the outlaw. But though they are brave and bold, the outlaws power grows daily. They need all the recurts they can get." He paused, and Kalaflar started. "What are you saying?" "Have patience. From the day we first heard, I have been begging my father's permission. At first he would not, but he has now given me permission. I leave in three days. And to waste no more words, will you come with me as my page - no, my squire?" Kalaflar looked by turns astonished and then pleased, and finally with a look of determination he said, "There is nothing I would desire more. But tell me, who do you see as winning?" For a while Gascoyne did not reply. Then at last he said, "I fear the forces are very nearly equal. I do not hide from you the tremendous things that are at stake. If we fail..." His voice trailed off, and little more was spoken. And so it was, that three days latter, the two young men set out for the scene of battle. Would they return again? (Out of Story), I built this as an attempt to hold the covered wagon for my Mpya Stedor build, but discovered that adding a bridge wide enough would be quite a challenge. I was pretty happy with how the landscaping turned out but I'm not quite happy with the way it turned out overall. C&C welcome anyways though!
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Part One Part Two "He's coming to!" exclaimed a cheerful voice at the young lad's side. "That's good to hear. What is your name, young sir?" Something it the youth's manner made the servant instictively say sir. "Call me... call me Kalaflar." "Call you Kalaflar? Aren't you Kalaflar?" "It was my Uncle's name before me," Kalaflar explained. The servant started slightly, as though the mention his uncle surprised him. "Then my master will be doubly glad to see you. Come though, first you must eat and bathe." Several minutes later, Kalaflar, now in the dress of a young page, was ushered into the noble's presence. He made a low reverence, and then, straightening himself, looked curiously about the room. It was warm and well furnished, with several tinted windows that let the light in. On one side of the room, directly in front of him, lay the old noble, while at the foot of his couch stood a young knight, whom Kalaflar correctly supposed was his son. The noble looked at him kindly, and endeavored to rise slightly, while the servant lady at one end hastened to slide a pillow under his head. "I have been told your Uncle was Kalaphlar, the general sent by Dextrus Flagg for the selection of a city?" "He was, sir." "Then I have some information you may want to know. The news of the cowardly attack on your encampment has outraged every loyal Kaliphlin, and they have pushed the robbers back so far as to break the power of all the disloyal knights... except one, the most powerful..." he trailed off for a second, and his eyes wandered down the edge of his garment. For some reason, Kalaflar felt a cold shiver run through him. "But things are looking up," the noble continued more cheerfully. "Dextrus has determined to build the city on the spot you found, in honor of your sacrifice. Your Uncle will be buried with royal honors - his body was retrieved from the attackers. Indeed though, we had thought that none had escaped. How was it you survived?" And Kalaflar related the circumstances immediately surrounding the attack in great detail, during which all present listened attentively, for it was the only firsthand account available. When he had finished, the noble presented him to his son, a young man named Gascoyne. "I am sure we will be good friends," Gascoyne said frankly. The old man nodded. "Why don't you take him out now? Show him around the palace and get him settled." So Kalaflar found a new home... but for how long would it last?
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Part One For days Kalaphlar's young nephew wandered on, his only goal being to keep the stream beside him and the mountains ahead of him. But game was scarce, and he soon began to suffer for lack of food. But he pushed on, until, gradually, he left the sand behind him and trudged up into the rocky fastnesses of the Rakath Mountains. Yet he went still further, for in all this time he had not met with a soul - and gradually, almost inperceptable, the snow became deeper on the ground and the cold became intenser in proportion as his garments wore out. And still he trudged on, tired now, too tired to think even, only knowing that he must keep going, must keep moving, for if not, he would surely fall a victim to the icy cold. Where he was going he would have found it difficult to say even to himself, but perhaps there was method in his madness, for had he not heard his uncle speak of a "venerable old noble, far up in the mountains, who has enlisted himself in our cause"? At any rate he pushed on, until, one day, he felt he could go no farther. With a sigh of weariness, he lay down in the snow, drawing his garments around him, thinking, perhaps hoping, that he would never more arise. But it was not to be. A few hours later he woke up with the sensation of movement - he was being carried! Two men, on either side of him, and he was on a stretcher. "Who are you? Where are you taking me?" he asked faintly. "Never mind," said the elder kindly. "We are friends and are taking you to safety." The last thing the young man remembered before fainting away was a looming gate house and an imposing stone tower, confronting the bitter wind. Comments are welcome, I hope you've enjoyed this next part of the story - I've got a better idea as to where it's going now!
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Parts One, Two,Three, Four, and Five are not essential to understanding this but might help. Crash! Crash! Crash! And even as the wall came tumbling down, Crash! The invaders - a motley band, all armed to the teeth, poured through the breach as soon as they could. But the defenders were not about to give in; they stood their ground bravely, and from all sides of the town men came running. Kalaflar and Gascoyne were at the farthest end, but no sooner did they hear the crash than they dashed through the city at full speed. But though the defenders fought bravely, and contested every foot of ground, it was impossible for them to hold out against such numbers. They were pushed back, slowly but surely, and it was not until the town's great cathedral that Gascoyne finally caught sight of the black knight, at the head of the orderless crowd. Spurring his horse forward, he chased the knight right through the cathedral doors. The few people who had taken refuge there scurried to the sides. Without hurry, but without hesitation, the black knight rode all the way to the front of the cathedral. Gascoyne paused as the knight wheeled his huge horse around, then they both galloped towards each other. Kalaflar, spellbound, watched from an aisle. He could not help but feel that it was hardly a contest. The black knight was seasoned by a dozen battles; Gascoyne had just begun to wield a sword. But there was nothing he could do; both knights sped on, their steeds foaming, and Gascoyne, with a shout, raised himself in the saddle and swung his sword straight for the knight's helm. He deflected it, with the tip of his shield, and gave Gascoyne a back-handed stroke as he passed. For one instant he stopped to look at his prostrate foe, then he turned, and left without a word. Kalaflar ran forward, but it was too late. Blinded, for the moment, by rage and despair, he swung almost violently at the nearest pillar, and then, mounting Gascoyne's horse, rode out of the cathedral. Comments are welcome! I'm not quite sure I should say so, but practically the entire tales of the past storyline was so that I could use this one build for GoH too... yeah... Thanks for checking it out!
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Since my last couple Tales of the Past were more other people telling stories rather than actually a story, I tried to make up for that here. You can check out Parts One, Two, Three, and Four respectively but they aren't absolutely necessary to understanding this story! "Who will be here first, do you think?" Kalaflar asked for the twentieth time, as he leaned over the slim edge of the tower overlooking - indeed surrounded by - the sea. "I really don't know, Kal, there's no use asking it so much," and Gascoyne added to himself, "it had better be the army though..." As if in answer to his thoughts, the lone retainer with them nodded. "However much you want a fight younker, you'd better hope we don't get one until there's at least a few more of us!" But Kalaflar was not listing - he peered intently at the horizon, and suddenly cried out "Boats! Two of them! From the south!" Instantly all was abustle. For one instant Gascoyne gazed intently at the northern horizon, then he turned to finish what preparations were deemed necessary. The two boats, propelled under oar - for there was scarce enough wind to use even the tiny sails they boasted - advanced rapidly, and soon were near enough for both parties to distinguish each other in the midday light. "I count four of them to each one of us," Gascoyne muttered. "At least, we're up high and have the advantage." The enemies' crew was a motley band - some out and out villains, highway robbers and mudererers, others proud nobles who would not bow to Dextrus Flagg whatever the cost (though these always kept well to the background), and even an merchant who honestly thought that Flagg had no claim on Kaliphlin's throne. When within a stone's throw of the small island, the foremost boat pulled up it's oars, rapidly stowing them away and catching up their weapons. They were just within bow range, and the archers on both sides prepared their bows. The leader looked up at the tower, scrutinizing the faces of all present. Then, turning to his men, he issued a short word of command. By this time the current had carried them even closer to the island, and the second boat was stowing its oars as fast as was possible. Then, as if by preconcerted signal, the archers let fly - and the battle had begun. The men in both boats crowded to the front, pushing to be ready to spring to the land as soon as the boats were close enough. But none was faster than the black knight, whirling his sword above his head. His warriors followed suit - that is, those of them that were not laid low by the whizzing arrows. The second boat had maneuvered better and was closer to the island, so it was one if it's occupants that first scaled the tower. But the black knight was not far behind. Gascoyne, eager to get at him, sprang down the knotted rope that served as their ladder. At the same moment the black knight sprang up it. In the middle their swords clashed, again, and again. Up above, on the top of the tower, the retainer had already been thrown off, but Kalaflar lost no time in treating the enemy warrior to the same fate. And then, in the momentary pause of the battle, he lifted his head, glancing northward. A cry of excitement broke from his lips, for there, on top of them almost, was the ship Flagg had promised to send! With a scowl the black knight sprang back into his boat, and the few men who were left with him turned the boat's head and were soon far out to sea while the ship's crew congratulated them on their narrow escape. But just before they had quite vanished, the black knight caught Kalaflar's eye, sending a chill to his heart. A few more pictures of the build:
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This is a continuation of my Tales of the Past series - and I know you're all going, "What on earth is that?" It's been a while I suppose. Links to the other parts, but as always I've tried to have the story make sense even if you haven't read the other sections. Parts One, Two, Three, Four, and Five. Slowly, sadly, Kalaflar rode up to the castle gate. With a feeling of dread he looked up at the massive towers of the keep and sighed. As he dismounted the porter caught sight of him. "You've returned!" he called joyously from the top of the gatehouse. He hastened down to open the gate. "Where is Gascoyne?" he asked, looking around curiously as Kalaflar came in. Kalaflar did not respond, and the porter grew silent. Presently they came to the room belonging to the lord of the castle. "How has father been?" Kalaflar asked the porter. "Nervously awaiting news. Just yesterday he said he was sure Gascoyne would not return," he added in a husky voice. "He was right," said Kalaflar sadly, entering the room. "Is that you, Kalaflar?" asked the old man in a trembling voice, "What is it, my boy?" "Father," began Kalaflar, but his voice failed him and he lowered his eyes. "It is Gascoyne," said the old man in a patient, sad voice. "I knew when he left me he would not return. Tell me all, Kalaflar." So Kaflar told him of their defense of the tower, of the black knight's menacing words, and of their final meeting at the cathedral, and Gascoyne's fall. The old knight sank back on his couch. Once, twice, he tried to rise, but failed. "Promise me," he said at last, "Promise me, you will seek vengeance - no, not vengeance, seek justice - justice on this villainous murderer!" He sank back upon the couch, and Kalaflar knelt beside him, pleading with him, begging him to live. "No. I go to my long home. You, you take up the mantle I leave behind. Promise me," he whispered again. "I promise." With regard to the story, I may as well as remark that Kalaflar is wearing Gascoyne's armor, and they are not actually brothers; the old knight is Kalaflar's adoptive father only. As for the build, I was pretty happy with how the window turned out. C&C welcome!
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