Post by JW% on Sept 22, 2012 1:58:45 GMT -5
Kiln ran as fast as he legs would take him, breathing heavy and trying to outrace the oncoming ragnarok that seemed to be swallowing up his little kingdom.
"You! Kiln!" He uncle cried out to him, identifying the boys green tunic, traditional clothing of a squire, while his uncle wore the armor of a knight. "Get to the Princess!"
Kiln panted and tried to get his breath back. He wanted to shout back "What about you?" or "I'll stay beside you!" but his uncle shoved him through the city gate, and a wall of armored guards, his uncle at the lead, blocked him.
They were war casters, each of them. Trained in both martial skill of arms and armor, and in mystical combat of spell and enchantment. They were the best of the best the little kingdom had to offer. They wouldn't be nearly enough.
Kiln ran through the little town that had grown in the courtyard, bright lights flashing behind him. The townsfolk had all retreated from their homes into the castle. The lights were the spells, being channeled through the war casters weapons. Swords firing bolts of energy, arrows that exploded into flames, spears that struck with the force of a thunderbolt.
These weren't just what was being fired from the walls... these were what was hitting the walls. The enemy had war casters too, riding on carpets, or brooms, or great winged dragons, or even on horses that galloped on the clouds. It didn't matter, they flew in and struck. And these were just the skirmishers. Just to test the cities might. Before the true machine of war arrived.
Kiln breathlessly asked where the Princess was. He didn't have much. Just his wooden practicing sword. But he had been raised with the Princess, a friend and playmate as they grew, and her sworn body guard. Her old nurse directed him to the Temple, behind the throne room. Kiln thanked her and dashed off.
Kiln was not a battle caster. He'd never been trained in the use of magic. He knew how to recognize spells, the shape of the pentacle and the color and sparkle of the bolt or beam, but he knew nothing about how to bend these forces within him to create these effects. All he knew how to do was fight. His sword, and his shield, were his strength. And he long ears burned with the realization that he'd forgotten even his little wooden practice shield in his mad dash.
He forced open the heavy stone doors and fell into the brightly let center of the temple. The Princess knelt there in prayer. Her small frame making Kiln feel bigger and protective of her. It was a strange feeling, the temple emphasizing how small he really was, and then realizing that even though he was a year younger than her, he was a good several inches taller than her.
"You're here." She said softly. "That means... it's time. Isn't it?"
"Yes." Kiln nodded sadly. "Yes I fear it is." She rose to her feet and waited for him to come to her. He stepped forward, and she led him up the stairwell, to the hidden room beyond the temple.
A glow from her soft white gloved hand opened the door. Just as Kiln had never learned magic, she had never suffered the sting of a sword blow against your own blade, never felt the numbness of blocking with a shield rather than deflecting. She'd never been trained in any kind of arms. But she knew magic. The golden spirit of light, the sacred trinity of power, courage, wisdom. She had studied and devoted her body to it's care.
The door opened and both young children stepped in. It was a small room really. The Princess stepped past the feature in the center and turned to face him, as he laid his hand gently on it. It was a sword. It was The Sword. The Master Sword. He felt a soft tingle touching it, and stepping behind it, he heard her whisper.
"I'm activating the Armorwork now." She said. He didn't look back, but he knew that she was glowing, a prism shape forming around her as she lifted upwards. Lines of power flowed out from her, running along the stone and metal work in the room. He knew that, from the outside, the whole rear of the temple had started to glow.
It seemed as though all the light was flowing towards the pedestal the sword was embedded in. "Draw the blade." The Princess begged him, and Kiln reached out, grasping the hilt. He started to pull and the world world shook. He braced his legs and pulled harder, feeling as though he were trying to pull his leg from out of knee deep mud. It tried to suck the sword from his grasp, but he pulled, even as the world around him tipped and shook.
Nabo had called off the War Casters and their flying mounts. The little castle walls were in ruins now. Now her giants could walk through, crushing the castle town with ease. To her left two massive creatures, brick red and seemingly carved out of volcanic rock with iron plating rumbled as they stepped forward. To her right blue white steel, with smooth and sleek lines, marred, if one could call it that, only by delicate fine like protrusions. And she, piloting her own Armorwork, standing some nine meters above the battle field in a titanic suit of armor that looked to be cast from bronze and gold, with polished mirrored jewels. Yes, her allies in the Goronians and Zorias had born fruit, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her master... her husband... her lord and ruler... but never her lover. Why did he make these commands? Why bring war down on these peaceful people?
No matter. Soon it would all be over and... what was this?
Kiln stood, sword drawn. Before him the wall had been replaced with an illusion, a vision granted him by the mystical will of the Princess, encased in her crystal prison behind him. He saw the three Armorworks before him.
He swung the Master Sword in his arm and pointed at the center one. The Gerudonian Armorwork. That would be Nabo, Queen of the patriarch. Her husbands mothers, the twin witches, would be powering her armor, just as the Princess powered his.
"Give me a sword beam." Kiln said.
"Channeling the power of light into our blade." The Princess replied.
Nabo stepped forward with a massive ponderous step in her Armorwork, to meet this new shining silver knight. But his blade charged faster. At the last moment Kiln changed his target, striking the blue and white armor of the aquatic race. The staggered back as the desert dwellers came forward. Kiln stepped over the Temple with his Armorwork and met their twin curved swords with his great shield, forcing the blow upwards and back.
A blast of fire came from the mountain dwellers Armorwork, the heavy red and iron monster launching it's spell from it's 'mouth'. Kiln blocked the blast with his great shield, and the Princess channeled her mystical divine light into a glowing field, enlarging the defense of the shield, keeping any of the flames form spraying around.
"You've choosen your allies poorly." Kiln told the three pilots he faced, and in his vision of the battle field he saw the three with whom he spoke appearing before him. All three looked tormented by their actions, but with a grim resolve to see their contract through. "Break your alliance and join with us. We do not have to fight."
"My honor would never allow that." The stone faced pilot of the Goronians said simply.
"You face me three against one. Where is the honor in that?" Kiln returned.
"That is true." Came the soft melodic tones of the aquatic Zorias woman. "But that is our order to carry out."
The wounded amphibious armor stepped back and flared it's fins. Dozens of streamers launched out and spun about, shooting towards Kiln's own silver armored form. He tried to raise his shield, but another bolt of fire came towards him, and Kiln made a snap decision. He blocked the flames, even as the spears of ice pelted his armor, and the Princess cried out in pain.
"I can't raise the arm anymore." She said. "It's locked." Kiln looked over and saw his sword arm was frozen in place by the ice magic. He tried to work it, but moving his own arm did nothing. "I'll try to melt it..." The Princess said.
"No!" Kiln snapped. She needed to focus her power on keeping the flames from baking them. The ice was disabling, but not going to immediately kill them. The fire might. "Ready the Arrows of Light." He would have to switch to ranged tactics, which they already seemed to be outmatching him in.
Then all four Armorworks froze as their mystical aids sensed something. Within the vision being fed to the heroes who guided the great constructs, something new was added.
The symbols for the known magical schools scrolled across Kiln's vision. His own Light, Fire, Water, Wind, Forest, Thunder... no... it couldn't be... yet it was. The new arrival coming from the sky. All four of them looked up, detecting the Shadow magic at play.
As the warriors looked into the eclipse they could see something descending from the darkness. From the shadow.
The Twili were launching their attack. Lord Zant smiled as his great Armorwork descended onto the field, and knocked down the four combatants with a miasmic wave of darkness and force.
"You'll... never... win..." Midna hissed, her arms and legged fused with the mirror behind his throne from which Lord Zant guided his titan, and his army.
"You think so, my dear?" Zant asked. "Even after Gannon arranged this whole meeting, so that we could show our power?"
The princess of the Twili snarled at him, and Zant lifted up a mask. "I think that even Gannon didn't know what... hee hee hee... lunacy he was calling down. Did he?" With that, he lifted the brightly colored mask to Midna's face. "Crush them my beloved Majora. Crush them ALL."
"You! Kiln!" He uncle cried out to him, identifying the boys green tunic, traditional clothing of a squire, while his uncle wore the armor of a knight. "Get to the Princess!"
Kiln panted and tried to get his breath back. He wanted to shout back "What about you?" or "I'll stay beside you!" but his uncle shoved him through the city gate, and a wall of armored guards, his uncle at the lead, blocked him.
They were war casters, each of them. Trained in both martial skill of arms and armor, and in mystical combat of spell and enchantment. They were the best of the best the little kingdom had to offer. They wouldn't be nearly enough.
Kiln ran through the little town that had grown in the courtyard, bright lights flashing behind him. The townsfolk had all retreated from their homes into the castle. The lights were the spells, being channeled through the war casters weapons. Swords firing bolts of energy, arrows that exploded into flames, spears that struck with the force of a thunderbolt.
These weren't just what was being fired from the walls... these were what was hitting the walls. The enemy had war casters too, riding on carpets, or brooms, or great winged dragons, or even on horses that galloped on the clouds. It didn't matter, they flew in and struck. And these were just the skirmishers. Just to test the cities might. Before the true machine of war arrived.
Kiln breathlessly asked where the Princess was. He didn't have much. Just his wooden practicing sword. But he had been raised with the Princess, a friend and playmate as they grew, and her sworn body guard. Her old nurse directed him to the Temple, behind the throne room. Kiln thanked her and dashed off.
Kiln was not a battle caster. He'd never been trained in the use of magic. He knew how to recognize spells, the shape of the pentacle and the color and sparkle of the bolt or beam, but he knew nothing about how to bend these forces within him to create these effects. All he knew how to do was fight. His sword, and his shield, were his strength. And he long ears burned with the realization that he'd forgotten even his little wooden practice shield in his mad dash.
He forced open the heavy stone doors and fell into the brightly let center of the temple. The Princess knelt there in prayer. Her small frame making Kiln feel bigger and protective of her. It was a strange feeling, the temple emphasizing how small he really was, and then realizing that even though he was a year younger than her, he was a good several inches taller than her.
"You're here." She said softly. "That means... it's time. Isn't it?"
"Yes." Kiln nodded sadly. "Yes I fear it is." She rose to her feet and waited for him to come to her. He stepped forward, and she led him up the stairwell, to the hidden room beyond the temple.
A glow from her soft white gloved hand opened the door. Just as Kiln had never learned magic, she had never suffered the sting of a sword blow against your own blade, never felt the numbness of blocking with a shield rather than deflecting. She'd never been trained in any kind of arms. But she knew magic. The golden spirit of light, the sacred trinity of power, courage, wisdom. She had studied and devoted her body to it's care.
The door opened and both young children stepped in. It was a small room really. The Princess stepped past the feature in the center and turned to face him, as he laid his hand gently on it. It was a sword. It was The Sword. The Master Sword. He felt a soft tingle touching it, and stepping behind it, he heard her whisper.
"I'm activating the Armorwork now." She said. He didn't look back, but he knew that she was glowing, a prism shape forming around her as she lifted upwards. Lines of power flowed out from her, running along the stone and metal work in the room. He knew that, from the outside, the whole rear of the temple had started to glow.
It seemed as though all the light was flowing towards the pedestal the sword was embedded in. "Draw the blade." The Princess begged him, and Kiln reached out, grasping the hilt. He started to pull and the world world shook. He braced his legs and pulled harder, feeling as though he were trying to pull his leg from out of knee deep mud. It tried to suck the sword from his grasp, but he pulled, even as the world around him tipped and shook.
Nabo had called off the War Casters and their flying mounts. The little castle walls were in ruins now. Now her giants could walk through, crushing the castle town with ease. To her left two massive creatures, brick red and seemingly carved out of volcanic rock with iron plating rumbled as they stepped forward. To her right blue white steel, with smooth and sleek lines, marred, if one could call it that, only by delicate fine like protrusions. And she, piloting her own Armorwork, standing some nine meters above the battle field in a titanic suit of armor that looked to be cast from bronze and gold, with polished mirrored jewels. Yes, her allies in the Goronians and Zorias had born fruit, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her master... her husband... her lord and ruler... but never her lover. Why did he make these commands? Why bring war down on these peaceful people?
No matter. Soon it would all be over and... what was this?
Kiln stood, sword drawn. Before him the wall had been replaced with an illusion, a vision granted him by the mystical will of the Princess, encased in her crystal prison behind him. He saw the three Armorworks before him.
He swung the Master Sword in his arm and pointed at the center one. The Gerudonian Armorwork. That would be Nabo, Queen of the patriarch. Her husbands mothers, the twin witches, would be powering her armor, just as the Princess powered his.
"Give me a sword beam." Kiln said.
"Channeling the power of light into our blade." The Princess replied.
Nabo stepped forward with a massive ponderous step in her Armorwork, to meet this new shining silver knight. But his blade charged faster. At the last moment Kiln changed his target, striking the blue and white armor of the aquatic race. The staggered back as the desert dwellers came forward. Kiln stepped over the Temple with his Armorwork and met their twin curved swords with his great shield, forcing the blow upwards and back.
A blast of fire came from the mountain dwellers Armorwork, the heavy red and iron monster launching it's spell from it's 'mouth'. Kiln blocked the blast with his great shield, and the Princess channeled her mystical divine light into a glowing field, enlarging the defense of the shield, keeping any of the flames form spraying around.
"You've choosen your allies poorly." Kiln told the three pilots he faced, and in his vision of the battle field he saw the three with whom he spoke appearing before him. All three looked tormented by their actions, but with a grim resolve to see their contract through. "Break your alliance and join with us. We do not have to fight."
"My honor would never allow that." The stone faced pilot of the Goronians said simply.
"You face me three against one. Where is the honor in that?" Kiln returned.
"That is true." Came the soft melodic tones of the aquatic Zorias woman. "But that is our order to carry out."
The wounded amphibious armor stepped back and flared it's fins. Dozens of streamers launched out and spun about, shooting towards Kiln's own silver armored form. He tried to raise his shield, but another bolt of fire came towards him, and Kiln made a snap decision. He blocked the flames, even as the spears of ice pelted his armor, and the Princess cried out in pain.
"I can't raise the arm anymore." She said. "It's locked." Kiln looked over and saw his sword arm was frozen in place by the ice magic. He tried to work it, but moving his own arm did nothing. "I'll try to melt it..." The Princess said.
"No!" Kiln snapped. She needed to focus her power on keeping the flames from baking them. The ice was disabling, but not going to immediately kill them. The fire might. "Ready the Arrows of Light." He would have to switch to ranged tactics, which they already seemed to be outmatching him in.
Then all four Armorworks froze as their mystical aids sensed something. Within the vision being fed to the heroes who guided the great constructs, something new was added.
The symbols for the known magical schools scrolled across Kiln's vision. His own Light, Fire, Water, Wind, Forest, Thunder... no... it couldn't be... yet it was. The new arrival coming from the sky. All four of them looked up, detecting the Shadow magic at play.
As the warriors looked into the eclipse they could see something descending from the darkness. From the shadow.
The Twili were launching their attack. Lord Zant smiled as his great Armorwork descended onto the field, and knocked down the four combatants with a miasmic wave of darkness and force.
"You'll... never... win..." Midna hissed, her arms and legged fused with the mirror behind his throne from which Lord Zant guided his titan, and his army.
"You think so, my dear?" Zant asked. "Even after Gannon arranged this whole meeting, so that we could show our power?"
The princess of the Twili snarled at him, and Zant lifted up a mask. "I think that even Gannon didn't know what... hee hee hee... lunacy he was calling down. Did he?" With that, he lifted the brightly colored mask to Midna's face. "Crush them my beloved Majora. Crush them ALL."
