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Saturday, 22 November 2008
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The Day Before the Next- Part V, Knightfall
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Twists and turns begin to unfold as Jean begins to lose everything and Beregond's hunt begins.

Day Before the Next- Part V, Knightfall


As I rode down into the mob of Chaos warriors below, just catching a glimpse of that shield piece upon the shoulder of the black warrior before me had thrown me off. My lance veered slightly as the warrior's blade smashed my lance in two, turning quickly around as I turned my steed around, pulling my blade for another run.


What sorcery could bring this man back- or did he even die? Thoughts pounced on my mind as knights from Roiglan crashed into the marauders approaching me, breaking them with ease. I kicked for another charge, swiftly cutting my sword down, swooping upwards at the dark warrior. It was a great parry of skill from the man as his great sword contacted mine. He threw his wait into my steed as the sheer force of his push against it pulled me down.


I squirmed my way out from under the horse, looking up as my vision became clear from the dizziness. I saw the helmed fool walking off into the nearby woods. Scrambling to my feet I chased after him, forgetting the cries of battle and my duty. If this was Beregond... I would have his head.


The woods were dark on the inside, it pinched at my nerves creepily as I looked around. I had lost sight of the warrior and now looked carefully through the trees to find someone lurking in the shadows. A twig snapped behind me, but I had seen no one. I turned to look forward and was pulled by some mystical force through the trees. It wasn't too long until I reached the hands of the foul warrior before me. His hand ringed around my neck.


"Tell me Jean," He said in a deep soothing, yet almost slithering voice, "What makes you think I shouldn't just kill you now?" A light cackle following after as I tried to squirm from his tight grasp. "I'll let you in on a secret..." he said smiling, "I'm going to put you through what your father put mine through and we shall see who the tainted one really is." He said, turning my face to the left. Pulling from his second sheath a branding iron, he lit it on fire as the metal began to scorch and glow bright orange in heat. As he let me view the end, it was the same branding iron giving to heretics or sons of. An 8-pointed star burned and scarred into your cheek.


The branding iron came close as he laughed deeply before the searing pain of the heat burned me. The smell of my own burning flesh made me nauseous as I screamed out in pain. "I'm tempted to drive it right through your cheek and into your throat." The corrupted one said before acting a little strangely. "What? The boy is mine. I will kill him with my own two hands if I have-" he paused for a moment, "Fine, have it your way." He stated as he pulled the iron away, sheathing it, then slamming his fist into my face, knocking me clear out.




Beregond knew that the Dark Gods would give him this task. As he knocked Jean out, he tied a rope around his ankle tight, hanging the knight from a tree. "By nightfall the Beasts will have him." Beregond said.


"Yesss, we will make sure of that." The voices whispered into his ear. "We will decide hissss fate."


Beregond looked to the treetops. "What use is he to you?" He asked out loud, a little frustrated in the Dark Gods. "His fate decides that of many and we wish to control it ourselves and not leave such things to... others... to tamper with." The voice responded. "Let me be the one to decide the fate of this world not him." He shouted out in discontent. "That path isss not for you, Beregond. SILENCE AND OBEY!" The voice shrieked in his ears again as he covered them in pain.


Beregond could not stand the arrogance of these voices. Control the fates of the world? Hardly so! Why could he not be the one to bring fire to the fields and death to the people? How did he not have the power to do so himself? This is foolish! Blasphemy! Yet as he calmed down he realized slowly... it was in his best interest to play their game now, and interrupt later. He was still far too vulnerable as he was.


Removing his helm, he walked out of the woods, viewing the plains of Lyonnesse before seeing the border of Artois and in the distance the great Forest of Artois. To his left the rotting lands of Mousillon. "What do you wish of me now?" He asked. "There isss another which impedes our effortsss. You mussst go to the Marches of Couronne... you will find him there." The voice responded.


"Preposterous," Beregond thought, "they send me on a wild goose chase." Yet it wasn't long before he began trudging through the wheat fields towards the dark Forest of Artois, leaving one Jean Marcel to the will and fate of the Gods.


Last Updated ( Tuesday, 25 November 2008 )
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