Great chaos had been beset upon the lands that day, smoke cascading
from the remnants of Hylden’s blind ambition remain tattered against the
walls of the Ancient city. The battlefield scarred and overflowing with
the teeming signs of death. Fellow comrades vainly commenced the search
about the torn and ravaged dead to retain what life may remain in such
a violent struggle. Wounded beyond comprehension, Janos the valiant leader
of the once proud citadel that lay battered within the vile mountain tops.
His wings fluttering with the ceressing wind flowing over the battlements
of the fortress, it’s decrepit scout towers guarded by the remainder of
the winged guard.
Janos remained motionless; his body reclined within the recess of his
immense wings. His bulging muscles straining over his hide, resting among
those that he had commanded to their gruesome demise. Their bodies lay
as a monument to the selfish desire of the Hylden.
Those that the battle had spared now returned to the sanctuary of the
walls. It’s vast barriers looming over the war torn regiment as they limped
back behind the shadows of the defences. A hand perplexed itself to Janos,
out stretched in eager anticipation to aid his master to his feet. He merely
raised his head momentarily to gaze into the fresh face of the commander
that had stood proudly by his side before the events that had taken place
that evening. Janos smiled in return and accepted the hand gratefully,
a surge of pain lifted up along his spine as he strained to remain standing.
The commander, seeing the pain that Janos was feeling, whisked his hand
about his lord’s arms grasping tightly about his injured bulk. Retreating
into the sanctuary of the citadel, the grieving warriors retaining the
remains of those whom had passed in the great siege were huddled about
the flowing fountain in the centre of the fortress. Water streamed down
the numerous layers, it’s sweet sound subtle to the ears that had heard
the cries of agony let out by their fellow man.
This assembly of warriors slowly began to disperse, winged men reclined
to the recess of their huts littered about the vast courtyard. Above the
torrents of smoke bursting in vast waves from the shabby habitations, the
phenomenal structure of the main fortress towered above the miniature form
of Janos. Its wafting banners casting a looming shadow over the remains
of the shanty town bellow, the divine architecture of the winged race set
it apart from the ordinary buildings formed by the less magnificent species
that dominated the lands of Nosgoth.
Elongated walkways passed over the full width of the cathedral like
keep, its walls glimmered in the setting sun, small crevices allowed the
archers concealed behind the walls of stone to exact a lethal volley at
any intruding visitors that set to demolish the awe inspiring structure.
Swooping upwards, Janos hurled his body skywards, the shuddering wings
now expanded by his side. Blasts of air expanded from the swishing membranes,
air pulsated over his body. About him his robes swished violently, curling
about his clawed feet. His extended body now took full flight through the
open aired arches and walkways that created the main dome of the fortress.
The large pillars that held within their cold, marbled hides, the chambers
of the higher arch of the citadel created the links that set the pathways
joining them together like that of a large web.
His great wings spurred him on until in plain view stood the central
column, this was the pillar that held the rooms and hidden belongings of
Janos away from the preying eyes that were constantly watching his every
move. He knew very well that many of the other councillors of the city
would use any shred of proof to topple his reign, despite the fact that
he was only in control of this single outpost. Lord Archious of the high
council, and high protector of the lands retained within the boarders of
Nosgoth, saw Janos’ favour of the people as a dire threat to his throne.
To prevent the result of being over thrown, he sent many of his most loyal
followers to bring Janos to the gallows without making the event look too
conspicuous.
Determined to forget this, Janos forced his battered body onto the
protruding balcony set in the top of his chamber, soon relaxed to have
escaped to the refuge of his own residence. Here he reclined into the darkness
of the room ahead. This was the spectacular bedchamber; in its centre lay
the grand visage of the bed. Around it lay the four banisters, twisting
in golden timber. The velvet red cloth of the bed had been neatly set by
the unseen servants that attended to the needs of the higher class.
About the full corners of the room stood odd contraptions, a table
set with devises used by explorers to set out routes through barren wastelands
or immense lapping seas. Another corner presented a dimly lit desk; on
it’s varnished surface lay a neatly written scroll. On this parchment the
documents of Janos’ reign were described, beside it the pot of ink and
pen were laid.
This was the personal activities that took up the dreary days of Janos’
life; his vast lifetime was stored in this small space. However Janos merely
huddled across the room and immediately slumped onto the comfort of his
four poster bed.
Dreary and exhausted, Janos’ eyelids became unbearably heavy as he
swiftly drifted into the darkness of sleep.
Shrill cries echoed through the vicinity of the hollow walls, horns
all about the keep bellowed high into the morning air. Light skimmed brightly
across the room through the laces of the curtains flowing smoothly with
the fresh air. Emerging onto the balcony, Janos dazed into the rising sun,
beams of warmth were cast on his cold hide. Around the fortress a brisk
set of gliding loyalists darted in and out of the pockets of air.
Vast groups set out at once, their wings brim with feathers cast a
flickering shadow as they hovered about the courtyard. Overnight the gates
had begun construction, with these repairs, many of the scars and destroyed
scout towers were well under way. Calling out to a passing ancient, Janos
inquired as to what the gathering was for.
“Those that we lost in the great battle before this morning my lord.
We are to honour the dead.” Replied the darting youngster as he continued
his flight towards the assembly.
This was a strange custom for the ancients to carry out, especially
without the presence of him. None the less Janos became determined to over
look this and go about the day as he saw fit. Swooping down to ground level,
he dived beneath the pillars and archways into the bowels of the large
cracks in the earth that lay about the keep's base.
Now the sounds of loud chatter and bustling ancients faded into memory
as he descended on wards. Now he could see the dim green lights of the
hidden temples, created by the most talented architectures among the ancients.
The welcoming priests emerged out of the temple to assist in his landing.
“Welcome lord Janos, we were not expecting your presence this early.”
Began a stocky robed priest extending his arms in peace.
“The keep is in the process of morning for the losses we sustained
yesterday.”
“It is a great pity that we lost so many, but why were you not invited
to lead the assembly?”
“That answer puzzled me also, but I will not concern myself with such
matters. I am here to see how well kept you have retained the reaver, if
this fortress were to fall, it must be ready to depart from us immediately.”
“Indeed, to hand this artefact over to the hylden would spell doom
to the order that has been retained over the years.”
Returning to the vicinity of the temple’s inner sanctum, Janos became
merserized by the pure detail set into the carvings and paintings depicted
on the walls. In the centre of the decorated room, grasped by the stone
hands of the daunting statue of the ancient’s fore fathers, the Soul Reaver
remained dormant and protected. The curved blade only slightly twitching
with the power that remains inside it’s material state became a dominant
attention for Janos’ eyes. He was suddenly drawn to its presence; his hand
began to stretch outwards to grab the hilt.
“What is it master Janos?” demanded a nearby priest as he swayed the
sweet smelling essence retained in a vase about the temple. Janos suddenly
is brought to his senses as the priests voice echoes through his mind.
For a few seconds following he merely stumbles regaining balance over his
body. Just as he returns to his normal state a voice calls from the outer
reaches of the temple.
“My lord we need you on the battlements.” Janos nods at the news, taking
a single glance back at the reaver; he departs for the courtyard.
Coming to a halt at the fountain that the crowded by the regiments,
the lieutenant followed by Janos swiftly barge through the dense circle
of onlookers, at it’s centre two battered ancients vainly grapple at one
another. Their claws tearing through the bulk of his opponent’s flesh.
One resembles a scout guard, the metallic armour jangling against his muscled
skin. The other robed in scarlet gives the impression of a noble.
Quickly departing the two from each other, the hissing sound of Janos’
bloodlust enables him to gain enough energy to throw both the combatants
out of the circle.
“What is this rabble!?”
“Janos, it is the loyals, they denied your leadership.” Replied a guardian
of the west gate, his claws poised to pin an advancing noble to the ground.
“This keep should go under the duristriction of the council and not
that of a war monger!”
This large congress was abruptly drawn to a halt by the shrill cries
let out by the scouts littered about the walls.
“Lord Janos, the Hylden plan to lay siege to the thresh hold of this
great citadel once more! The reinforcements lay in wait at our very doors.”
Panic stricken, the mob of quarrelling men became a torrent of wings
fluttering rapidly upwards into the protection that the sky offered. Many
of the bravest soldiers rapidly took flight to the countries central frantic
to evade another onslaught, whilst nobles set flight to the protection
of their houses.
“Return to your posts you cowards!” beckoned the orders of Janos; his
voice propelling itself across the mountains that littered the landscape.
His words were left unheeded as the mass of deserters continued their
flight away from the marauding Hylden that advanced towards the fractured
Fortress. Janos released his sight from the cowards and back to those that
had refused to desert the post that they had sweared an oath to protect.
Only a few stragglers remained many battered from the course of the last
attack. Deep in thought, Janos heard the constant beat of the Hylden war
drums echoing across the barren foothills that lay untouched by the feet
of mortal men. His mind frantically attempted to come to some logical solution.
His thought was jolted to a halt as the remaining 100 or so men crowded
about their leader hoping for his lips to give some feasible escape from
the doom that loomed before them.
“We must meet them head on… the secrets that this keep retain must
be guarded from the hands of the Hylden. We must stand!”
“We cannot!” came the instant reply of a warrior “we are too few and
weak from battle, to fight another now would definitely lead to our demise.”
“Our lives are nothing to that of the Soul Reaver, it’s purpose is
yet to unveiled and until that time we must protect the honour that has
been bestowed on us.”
“Then let it enter battle with us, it will give our number strength
over that of the Hylden.”
Just as Janos’ lips opened to decline the request, the war cries of
the Hylden began to shatter the silence that had flowed over the remnants
of the battlefield that lay in wait outside. He knew that his men would
refuse to aid in the final assault if the Reaver did not fly out with them,
ultimately he accepted the offer and within minutes the reaver was presented
to him. He faltered only momentarily before grasping the cold steel of
the Hilt. Its ravenous energy hummed, as it lay dormant at Janos is side.
The regiment stood with its banners raised high about their heads. In
front of their blank stares, the huge army of the Hylden charged forward
at unbearable speed. All eyes turned now to Janos eagerly anticipating
his sign to lunge forward into the on coming foe. He simply remained motionless,
his eyes glaring deeply at the force that moved against his keep’s walls.
He refused to end in such a horrific way; he reclined from the idea that
he would go down in history as the general who lost his keep to the Hylden.
About him the men became anxious, beads of sweat ran down their faces.
“Lord we must act!”
“Hold the line!” Janos demanded the wait became intolerable until at
last as the Hylden drew near Janos is cry screeched over the battlefield,
his lungs quivering under the strain of his roar. Within minutes the regiment
had begun flight vertically towards the horde of adversaries, their
grand wings propelling them forward with dangerous force. Their weaponry
raised before them aimed viciously towards the oppositions’ throats.
Janos held the soul reaver with deadly precision, the Hylden drew nearer
to the blade, as its hum became intoxicating. Then the moment of impact
arrived, the assault pummelled through the dense lines, Hylden flailing
upwards as the ancients tore through the mass. Chaos began among the flanks;
Hylden instantly bewildered at the success of the forward against their
troops fled the scene into the far reaches of the hills. Janos held the
Soul reaver proudly in his hands, his streamlined body dominating the battlefield.
His only goal was set upon passing utterly through to the rear of the flanks.
His desire for bloodshed became apparent as he pulled the reaver up full
height and with a swift slash wrought it’s terror upon the beasts.
Among the ancients only a dozen or so fell in this drastic advance,
it was executed with great effect. Many ancients swirling and twisting
burst out of the enemy lines, their blood lust which had been given as
a curse to the creatures by the Hylden now was used as an ally as fangs
dug deep into the necks of their oppressors and regenerated their bloodlust.
Torn limbs and shattered bodies lay in their wake; Janos had once again
made a vital, move that had swung the chance of success in their favour.
Coming to a halt at the edge of the precipice that resided a mile away
from the keep, thuds of landing feet crunched through the thick snow that
had begun to drift silently as a blanket over the large batch of dull coloured
figures.
“We have the advantage of flight! We must draw them to the cliff and
take advantage in numbers.”
Indeed the Hylden had already begun combat with the ancients. Spears
that the Hylden had held firmly in their front line quickly took effect.
Pointed edges tore through the flesh of many that stood at Janos’ side,
screams of pain echoed across the chasm. Regrouping quickly the ancient
forces retaliated with a fearful move against the spear wielding foes.
Their swords swiftly cracked through the steel and wood of the pikes, splinters
flying under the rapid slashed of the Ancients.
Janos reared up the reaver once again, his bloodlust had surpassed all
possible heights, hunger wrought upon his face. His eyes became gaze less
as he roared with laughter swiping through the Hylden. Just as the success
of Janos was almost certain, the turning point of the battle began. The
ancients had fallen deep into the trap of the Hylden; concealed sorcerers
emerged from the thick density of the advisories. Their magic swiftly took
force, streaming bands of gold span vigorously about their captive audience,
beams tearing through the membranes of their wings disabling their ability
of flight.
After the shock of these revelations, the sudden daring advance of
shielded warriors bewildered the dazzled ancients, this moment flashed
across Janos’ grave face. This was the moment…of defeat.
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