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LOP Stories

The Golden Queen

What’s up guys!

The instructions blog and video has been taking a little longer than i thought it would, so I decided to start the new blog category this weekend while I get the other blog together.

For those that have not read my first blog, all of this started with short stories I would write in my free time to clear my head, all slowly leading to the main stories of Ethalios and the Scorched Kingdoms.

My goal is to start posting some of these stories on the blog that will introduce different clans or give some background info on characters that will come to life in the main story. Im hoping this will give you guys a better look into my world and where some of the madness comes from.

This first story starts to shine a light on the evils that bring the Fuerion Nation into the new wars and the rebirth of the bleeding shadows.

The Golden Queen

The king had recently taken the thrown, after the Battle of the Crying Cathedral. He was a great conqueror, but a terrible man. This king took a queen to create a bloodline, but lusted for many others.

His army was used for nothing but sacking the settlements of those known as savages. Bringing children and women to the kingdom to serve a “more deserving man”. This king had no clue that he would begin a war that would burn 100 years of peace.

It was to be only savages he took, and the people of the nation seemed to look the other way. They really had no choice, for he was the king. So the soldiers continued to scour the lands for unlucky people to serve this new king.

This incursion brought his men to a farm village at the edge of the savage nation known as Galantia at the time. Here, they would find a beautiful girl, still at the young age of 15. They tore her clothes and roughed her up, to look like she came from one of the rider camps, knowing that their gift would be of the highest value for her.

As they rode away, they didn't notice a little boy running after them, couldn't have been older than 13, and looked to be even more fragile than the girl they had just left with. This boy though, he had loved this girl since he was old enough to speak.

The boy chased the men, and followed the road they had ridden for 3 days. He did not stop to sleep or eat. He had no reason to; he believed her to be his reason for doing everything. On the third day his body would no longer listen to his will, and fell to the ground.

As he lay there, gasping for his last breaths, he was picked up by 2 riders, and he began blacking out as they started to speak.

This boy awoke among the savages themselves, nursed back to health by those said to do nothing but burn and pillage. He found himself seeing the world n a new light, thanking the godless and hating the king that was said to bring him peace.

The boy pled for the savages to help him to get the girl back, receiving nothing but a single “No.” every time. The savages didn't fight others’ battles, and that would not change this day. The next plead that came from the boy was just of 3 words that would change the world,

“Then teach me”, he exclaimed.

The boy burned and bled for 8 long years, sitting every night picturing the girl, his hatred growing more passionate every day.

Until the day finally came, when he was to become a man and challenge a warrior of the savage camp to become one of them.

The Lord of this fire camp roared for him to choose, as the boy looked around and pointed his blade to the Lord himself.

Gasps rang throughout the camp, as the savages started to back away, opening the circle for the Lord to enter.

The boy knew there was only one true way to save the girl.

The Lord picked up his massive blade, with hundreds of marks carved down the sword, representing each man he had decapitated during his time as Lord. The Lord slowly moved to the middle of the crowd, as the people closed off behind him, creating an arena.

Without a second thought, the Lord struck straight down to cleave the boy in half. As the boy moved, the sword crashed into the ground, splitting the earth like a quake had hit at his feet. The Lord continued to relentlessly swing his sword at the boy, missing every time but continuously getting closer.

Finally, he cornered the boy, and moved to strike straight down at him once again. But this time the boy refused to move an inch. He caught the blade between his hands, stopping it instantaneously.

Before the Lord could react, the boy thrusted his foot into the pelvic area of the Lord. A crackling noise could be heard by the entire crowd, as the Lords bones shattered.

With one strike the boy brought the strongest lord known to the savages to his knees. As the Lord knelt in front of this boy, not of his own will, but out of pure pain, he stared at a boy that he had known for many years. Though you could see much anguish on his face, the Lord smiled at the boy.

See, this lord was the one that saved him just a few years ago. He had trained this boy and loved this boy. He had waited 8 years for this boy to become a man, and show his people a new way.

The boy raised the sword of death marks, once held by the Lord, but at the last second paused. He looked down at the Lord he had known as a father for most of his remembered life, finding himself torn between the two people he loved most.

With one swift movement, the head of the Lord hit the ground, and the body slowly slumped over. This boy fell to his knees and with the blood of the Lord, he wiped the thousandth mark on the blade.

The once boy, now stood as a man, looking at his people. He raised the blade in the air as the crowd once silent, now echoed out cheers.

Suddenly, the man plunged the end of the sword into the ground and began to speak.

“It is time the world truly knows who we are. No longer will we be animals in the wild. No longer will they have us pick at the weak, while the strong pick us off as a game. If they want to call us savages, then we will show them that we have earned that title!”

The man walks through the circle of people, as he reminds each of them of times they had their camps burned, and their children taken.

“We will show the king why these lands are said to be scorched. I will burn everything that has any importance to them.”

“Your blood will not spilt to feed my hatred for the kin. I ask just 9 men to stand before me, willing to ride. For tonight, we ride through the lands I once called my own.”

Nine of the strongest warriors came forward and stood before the man. As he gave a slight nod, they said goodbye, and saddled their horses. The next few weeks were filled with stories of cities that were loyal to the king, charred and burned to the ground by just 10 men.

The king refused to give these stories any consideration. He was too busy with the birth of his first son, just one day prior.

The king’s wife mysteriously died 8 years ago, and he had taken a new queen. Little of her past was known by the people of this city, other than she was younger, and more beautiful than any other girl to ever step foot in the cathedral.

She was rarely seen by the people of the city, and her voice was never heard, for she was kept in the castles tower. Many felt badly for the girl, now a woman. Her eyes were empty, and her gaze was of someone that had already died, many years ago.

Today was the birth celebration for the new prince. All of the noble people of the city were dining in the regal castle, oblivious to the pain echoing through the halls.

The king stood, quieting the tables of people. A shit grin slowly appeared on his face, as it usually did when he got his way.

“Welcome to our home. Enjoy, as we celebrate the birth of the next king. A moment you will always remember, and a night you will never forget”, he said with a chuckle.

As he raised his glass, the crowd cheered and applauded.

As the room begins to quiet, a large thud is heard in the front room that leads to the dining hall. As the eyes of the crowd moved away from the king, the door flew off the hinges, splintering into thousands of pieces, and a man appeared from behind the shrapnel.

The people of the city scattered, knowing there was blood about to spill, as the guards rushed toward the now gaping hole.

The man removed two axes from his back, planting one in the chest of the first guard, quickly removing it to thrust into the throat of another. He quickly sprinted at the next guard, who was frozen from what he just witnessed.

The man leaped in the air, and thrusted his knees into the chest of the terrified guard. All that could be heard were shrieks and cries, as the breastplate bent inward breaking every rib in his body.

Two more guards appear, slashing at both sides of the man. He dodges the first, and escapes with just a small gash in the arm from the second.

The man picked up a shield from the ground, rushed the closest guard, and threw him to his back. He spun around and with incredible strength, jammed the shield into the other guard’s chest, completely through his armor.

With the few seconds he had given himself, the man frantically scanned the room to find which exit the royalty had taken. He spotted the back hallway, but as he moved for it, soldiers spilled out yet again.

With a monstrous yell, the man slammed the first guard into the stone wall that protruded from the corner of the hall. Rubble flew everywhere, as the wall cracked from the hit.

Now panicked, the man started to push his way through the wave of guards, trying not to waste time that he could not afford to lose.

At this point the wave of guards seemed endless, as another surge emerged farther down the path. As the guard pulled his weapon, the man threw himself feet first into the guard, and barreled straight through the much smaller boy.

The man quickly rolled forward toward the last guard he could see, and picked up a spear laying on the ground. Before the guard could move, the man thrust it upward with such impact, that it went straight through the bottom of the guards chin, through his skull, and into the stone above. The discarded body dangled there, pinned in the stone ceiling.

Now battered and bruised, he made his way to the end of the hall, and flung the double doors open, now finding himself standing in the throne room.

Sitting before him, no more than 30 feet away, was the king. Across his despicable face was that devious grin. Next to the king sat a beautiful women, known to most as queen; but not to the man. When this man saw her, his expression suddenly changed as tears rolled down his face.

He looked around the room quickly to again see two dozen guards surrounding him. The woman’s hands began to tremble as she looked down to the floor, one tear falling to the ground. The king saw the emotion from both the man and woman, he knew the savage was here for her.

The king leaped from his throne, and pulled a small golden dagger from behind his back. As the man looked up at the woman for one last moment, the king raised his hand and cut across her throat, a devious grin as the blood poured and the body fell to the floor.

The man dropped his weapons and collapsed to his knees, no longer paying attention to the king or the guards that surrounded him.

He flashed back to the memory of that young boy on his knees outside the small farming town, the same hopeless feeling that had hit him once before rushed back. Then he watched as the boy got up and ran, never letting the vision of the girl leave his thoughts.

As the man remembers the boy, eight years of hatred and pain consume him in a wave of emotion. He just yelled, but to those around him, it was a booming roar. The ground began to shake, and a wind emitted from the man. His tears suddenly dried, and steam rose from his face. As he opened his eyes, only a red glow could be seen. His skin became consumed by this hate, and flames appeared around this soulless man’s body. The horrified guards begin to back up, and as the man looked up, the king’s nasty grin for the first time began to fade, his eyes widened, and fear surged throughout his bones.

The man let out a final roar, as his pain became that of all those around him. The flames burst out in a radius around him, searing the flesh of all the guards where they stood. It was over in an instant, just blackened bones to be seen. The man finally stood, eyes locked on the king. He pulled two large daggers from his sides, and swiftly threw them into the shoulders of the king, pinning him to that metal throne that brought him so much pride in the past. The man slowly walked towards him, no flames to be seen, but with each step he took, he singed the ground beneath him.

When he reached the sniveling king and his throne, the man grabbed him by the throat, ripping him from his bladed shackles. As he lifted the king into the air, all he could hear was pleading and crying. The king was put in his place for the first time, as he had done to countless poor people before. The king looked down into the scorching eyes of the one once known as the man. The king no longer saw a person, just a pure form of pain. In its eyes, the king could see the people that he had destroyed to get to the throne flash before him.

No one knows what happened to the king after that. The throne was melted to the ground, and the woman and child were gone. The one once known as the man, is now known as Virox Lord of the savage army. All the armies of the Fuerion Nation now stand together, between the Savages and the Vaethrox, they are over 20,000 strong.

They say the man that melted a kingdom, now looks to the Vaethrox and Sorcerers of Singe to bring back the Queen to sit by his side. That together, they will bring the other nations to their knees.

Written by
Joe Rozier
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