North by Northwest (storyline)/Prologue (vignette)
Topic: Wehnimer's Landing
Message #: 15373
Author: GS4-KENSTROM'
Date: 11/02/2022 06:53 PM EDT
Subject: North by Northwest - Prologue
Paragraphs (but not the section titles) taken from the following official forum post:
Thadston Meets Jovery
The marbled floor no longer held the stains of war.
But his arms still did.
The fragments of metal in his flesh shined brighter than the stone beneath him. He felt the energy thrumming beneath his skin but had gotten used to it in time. The last he had seen the large chamber it had been blackened with fire and broken and ravaged by zealots. Blood had colored the pillars. Bodies had littered the corners. He could still hear the ghosts of yesterday.
“All Hail the God-King Koar.”
Worst of all, he could still hear his son’s voice echoing the same.
A dozen squires and soldiers stood by, giving him a wide berth as their eyes bore through him. Some of them were not even born yet when he had once called this cold place home. They would never experience the horrors he had in two of their lifetimes. For that, he envied them.
The throne room remained timeless. Even reborn, it had grown back the same. That did not surprise him in the least. The Earl had been slow to change at times, and one does not easily abandon their level of comfort and style at his age. He would not fault him, publicly. Privately, that would be an entirely different matter.
The trials of time and battle had not shrunk him. The Earl was still as tall as ever, but with less muscle than before, for his blue velvet robe hung looser than he recalled. His silver-trimmed surcoat was sharp as ever, cinched tightly with a blue leather belt. His grey hair had receded even more, leaving only a few thin tufts to be ruffled by a brisk ride. But his pale blue eyes were still alert and full of life, crisp and almost mirthful in some manner.
The sapphire-set gold coronet was missing from his head.
This was not a court session.
This was personal.
“All Hail the Commander of the Northern Outpost.”
“Lord of Hendor.”
“Knight of the Order of Llaestal’s Guard.”
“Defender of the Broken Kingdom.”
“Sir Thadston Andrews.”
The Earl’s voice held a mournful tone with each word, but Thadston was not stirred, or pleased.
The scowl on his face grew with each recounting of a title.
“I am not any of those.”
“You once were and could be again.”
Thadston reached into his cloak and pulled out a very, very wrinkled parchment. Its seal had been broken, and visibly it appeared to have been manipulated to be resealed, but unsuccessfully. “Is that what this madness is? Did the Prelate strike you so hard you’ve gone crazy?”
Some nearby squires gasped.
Earl Eddric Jovery, the Northern Sentinel of the Tyramzzyrian Empire, rose from his throne and let forth a great belly laugh. If the squires were not nervous before, they certainly were then. Their eyes looked on, wide and unblinking. Jovery waved his hand dismissively and stepped down to the marbled floor and passed towards an iron-bound door to the side of the chamber. He disappeared inside.
Thadston sighed, glared at the squires, and followed the Earl.
“They think you disrespect me, which perhaps in their eyes you have. But they do not know our days behind us, do they? They do not see you as I do, as the unruly son I never asked for, but here you are.”
Thadston held out the letter again.
“Is that why I am here?”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes. Using my own words though? Is that necessary?”
“Do you feel any different now, than as you once did?”
Thadston clenched his jaw.
“I thought not.” The Earl smiled warmly and settled into a large-backed chair in a corner of the quiet chamber. He flinched slightly as he lowered himself into the seat, leaning to relieve weight upon his left side.
“You are ill?”
The Earl shook his head, “Heavens no. I am old Thadston, I ache when it rains, I ache when it shines.” He paused to look at the metal shards in the man’s arms. “Your arms are as bejeweled as my crown. You speak of madness, but what of you?”
“I will not deny that. I’ll be rid of them soon.”
Jovery fiddled with a sack at his side, loosening the drawstrings to slowly pull out a pair of golden spurs. He set them gently upon the desk near him.
“I will have need of you. You know this.”
Thadston glanced down at the scroll in his hand and began to scrunch it within his fist.
“What do you say, will you retake your oath again, here and now, and rise as a knight once more?”
His eyes went to the golden spurs.
Octaven's Falcon at Darkstone Castle
The sky rippled awake.
Whorls of purple, of blue and of shadow billowed above as if bruising the heavens. The half-ruined towers of a macabre castle pierced up through a blanketed cloud of thick darkness, as it swirled outward as if some malignant tumor eating away at the light from the silvery-blue moon on high.
On wings of chiseled stone, great beasts soared about, circling amidst the murk and hunting for their prey. Dancing bolts of light and energy crackled throughout the air and the depths of a dark forest stretched out beyond. From within the crumbled windows of the castle dark flames thrashed about, their reddish-gold glow throbbing with life. Heralded by a booming clap of thunder, several bolts of red lightning lit up the night, bathing the entire environs in a bloody, sanguine glow.
In the distance, a speck of white formed on the backdrop of night. It traveled with such fluid movements, lifting and dipping on the winds as it soared above the forest and rose higher, angling towards the dark castle and the chaotic tempest surrounding it. It came into view, its eyes glistening with a manner of intelligence and understanding. The storm continued to rage, but it gave it no mind.
On wings of ashen feathers, the sleek white falcon landed upon the edge of a castle tower.
Light flashed within its silver eyes.