Thread: The Dark Champion (Part 1)

This is the first part of a work in progress. Critiquecommentoffer suggestions as you will. Chronicles of the Dark Champion His bones almost creaked with age as the venerable Father Esteban walked slowly up to the podium at the front of the room that served as a lecture hall for the Academy of the Fellowship of Demon Hunters. The regular teacher stepped back without hesitation. Esteban was beyond old, he was positively arcane, and he rarely spoke to classes. When he did, no one tried to gainsay him, or even thought about not attending the lecture. His words carried an air of wisdom, and the tales of times long gone. ??Good morning.? He said into the microphone. His voice was just above a whisper, but the speakers made his voice carry well in the room. There was a murmuring of greetings from the assembled people. Esteban noticed one person slipping into the room silently, closing the door behind them. She sat at the very back, avoiding notice. He smiled. ??I have decided to discard my planned lecture. It is time, I think to speak of a time that was not so very long ago. Few enough of us survived it to tell of it though. Does anyone know of what I speak of?? A single hand was raised. He looked at the student. She looked like she was only 16 or 17, but she held herself with an air of confidence he recalled. The fires of youth. He had lost those decades ago. He pointed to her. ??The Dark Times. When the world knew war and the man that we call the Dark Champion led the forces of our enemies in the greatest war since the First Emergence.? She said confidently. Esteban nodded. ??Correct. Now, does anyone here know why we call the area to our west The Lost Lands?? The same hand raised. He smiled. ??It seems we have only one with spine in her back.? ??And space in her head.? Someone jibed. There was a very brief twitter of laughter until it melted under the very unimpressed look of Esteban. The seated students seemed to shrink away from the speaker. ??The wise speak when they've something to say. The fool speaks to have something to say. Learn this well boy.? He nodded back to the girl. ??It's ceded territory. After the Dark Times, we don't have the strength to reclaim them, so we guard them, and do all we can to keep those that dwell there within.? She said firmly. Esteban nodded. ??Very good. Now, listen all of you, for I shall tell you of a time just before the Dark Times. A time of growing horrors, and a time of great heroes, and terrible sacrifice. And it all started 23 years ago.? The students settled in, and waited for him to begin. Wilhelm Ganz looked to his left, and saw his companion shift his shoulders, loosening them for the coming fight. Ulrik puled his helm out, and slid the gruesome thing on. It looked for al the world like a grinning wolf skull. But Ganz knew that the Wolf Helm of Russ was nothing to take lightly, nor was the ancient armour that the man wore, but especially, the great sword that hung across his back. Mjalnar was ancient beyond reckoning, hearkening back to the dawn of the Endless War against demons and their ilk. Ganz had his own, far less history laden equipment ready. His heavy armour, and the solid hammer that had seen him through many trials. The two men nodded to each other, and Ganz brought his foot into the door, splintering it apart. With twin howls, they plunged in. The young man rose from his knee. ??We face them then?? He asked. The high priest shook his head. ??No young one. Not these two. We must flee, and allow the dwellers within the Del'yer gate to hold them off. ??Can you control those dwellers High Priest? I'll not have the demons do the work of these fools.? The high priest glared. ??You will show proper respect boy, or face the penalties.? The young man turned away, and strode towards the gate. ??Can you or not?? ??Yes, I can control them.? The priest hissed. If the boy hadn't been so confoundedly useful, he'd have taken great joy in tearing out the entrails of the lad, and scattering them across the floor. But alas, it was not to be. The boy stopped in front of the gate, and looked at it. It was massive, nearly sixteen feet across at the base, forming a perfect arch. Runes were carved all along the arch, runes that burned the eye to look at. He could see the swirling of the immensely powerful wards that had been placed. It reeked of holy energy, entwined with arcane powers to augment them. He slowly slid a hand into the middle of the archway. The wards parted around his hand easily. He smiled as they started to fluctuate wildly around his hand. He stepped into the gap, and saw the wards writhe and twist, trying to re-establish themselves, but they were too far removed. With an audible crack, they gave way. He stepped back, and a dark red swirl, like a whirlpool of blood formed. He grinned as the High Priest chanted softly. He saw the snarling head of a Flesh Hound emerge, and stepped aside. The High Priest directed the demonic hound towards the entrance. Cultists threw themselves into the fray, but Ulrik and Ganz were more than a match for the dozen men. Three men cam apart under a sweeping blow of Mjalnar, while Ganz brought his hammer onto the top of a head, exploding it in a shower of blood, bone chips, and brains. He bulled the corpse aside, and cracked the heavy weapon across the jaw of two men, before seeing that the last few survivors of the attack were pressed against the wall. ??M...m...mercy!? One shouted. Ganz and Ulrik looked at each other, and nodded. ??No mercy for traitors to the race of men.? Ulrik replied, sweeping his blade across them. Heads came free, and Ganz saw the deep furrow cut into the stone wall they'd been pressed against. He heard a baying sound, and nodded. ??Looks to me as though things are about to get interesting.? Ganz mused idly. ??Good. I was getting bored.? Ganz and Ulrik marched to meet the coming demonic hounds without fear. Teeth, ichor, and demonic spittle flew as Ganz shattered the side of a Flesh Hound's face. Ulrik sliced one cleanly in half, his sword leaving a trail of blue frost behind it with each swing. A hound hunched to lunge at Ulrik from behind, but a tendril of ice from the sword touched it. The hound was frozen solid in a flash, and it shattered as the armoured boot of Ulrik the Slayer hit it. They fought forward against the horde of hounds, all emerging from the swirl in the archway. Ganz brought a foot down on the nose of a hound, and used it as a board to leap up, bringing his hammer down on the arch. The rune etched into the face of the hammer blazed, making the hammer leave a trail of blue fire behind it as it struck home. The swirl collapsed, and the hounds all howled in dismay. The two Hunters set about them. ??They defeated the hounds?? The young man asked, sounding surprised. ??Yes, they are some of our greatest foes. Wilhelm Ganz, and Ulrik the Slayer, may the Gods blight them for all time. They are Old Guard, members of the Inner Circle in the Fellowship.? The High Priest explained. ??You should have allowed me to face them. To gain their measure.? ??Their measure is beyond you for now apprentice. Bide your time. Your training will be done soon, and we shall teach this world to fear us anew.? The young man smiled at the thought. Ganz and Ulrik sat on the floor panting, glad that the building was far enough away from the city that they'd not have to deal with police. Ganz leaned back, and looked as Ulrik freed his long hair from his helm, and sighed. ??We are getting too old for this, old friend.? Ganz said, stretching. ??Speak for yourself old man.? Ulrik countered, looking at the man. ??Last I checked, you were nearly four years older than me.? ??Point taken. But I for one will never be too old for killing the foes of man.? Ganz chuckled. Ulrik came from a long line of Hunters, all of them bearing the same sword, helm and armour. All of them bear the title of Slayer. And no Slayer, not since the first of them, great Russ himself, had ever died of age or sickness. On the fields of battle, and bathed in the fires of glory, they were all called home to Russ' hall. Ulrik was nearly sixty years old, but had the endurance, strength and vitality of any three men that were half his age. They looked back at the gate. Ganz had left a warding stone in the middle, and it sat there, glowing faintly. ??That will not hold for long. A few days maybe.? Ganz said seriously. ??And we've not the strength to destroy the gate.? Ulrik added. ??When our relief arrives, they can bring more warding stones, and maintain a vigil. We need to seek the guidance of our elders.? Ulrik nodded. ??Though he will not be well pleased to see us.? ??But he will see us, and will recognize the importance of this. The Del'yer gate has been breached. We need to know why, and more importantly, how we can stop this from happening again.? Ulrik sighed. ??You do not have to remind me of the importance of this task old friend. We will leave in the morning, as soon as we are relieved.? The two old men nodded, and settled back against the wall. The church was not a place either man felt comfortable entering, but the man they needed was within. The closed the doors behind them quietly, and tried to walk quietly. Their footfalls boomed in the cavernous place, and they both winced. They were halfway to the front, when they heard a voice clearing from their side. They turned and saw a man sitting in a pew, wearing the long black robes of a priest. His face was weathered, bearing the looks of a man who'd faced more horrors than they could imagine, but had emerged triumphant, with a keen wisdom. ??Wilhelm Ganz, and Ulrik the Slayer. I thought I told you not to seek me out in this place.? He said quietly, his own voice somehow not echoing. ??You did. But we have little choice in this matter.? Ganz countered. Ulrik simply shifted, and grunted slightly, as though he wasn't really interested one way or another. . ??This had better be good Ganz.? The priest was not smiling in the least. ??The Del'yer Gate has been breached. Is that good enough?? Dead silence filled the church for a full minute. ??I'd have accepted you interrupting my sermon for that. Now both of you come with me, and get out of the public eye.? Father Esteban rose from the pew and led them into the private chambers he used for meetings like this. The class was still silent as Esteban coughed softly. He lifted a bottle of water the teacher had left at the podium, and took a small drink. He cleared his throat, when a hand shakily rose. He smiled, and pointed at the young man. ??Um...I mean no disrespect by interrupting, but I wanted to ask a question.? The boy asked weakly. ??Then ask it child. I don't bite, and even if I did, I'm too old to do more than gum you a little.? Esteban replied. The class chuckled, unused to one as revered as him possessing anything like a sense of humour. ??Why is none of this in the records? I've read everything I can find on the Dark Times, but there isn't much save for the list of dead, and a few key battles.? ??That's because much of this isn't...liked to be remembered by the survivors. So it's classified. And now, I'll tell it to you if you wish. If not, I will excuse you without penalty from the room.? The young man shook his head vigorously. ??No sir. I want to know. But so far the tale already has 3 of the Old Guard in it.? ??And your point? Let me talk boy, and you'll know more.? The silence was absolute as he started to speak again.