Revenant: Lythari - Prelude
The Dream
Lythari stood against the railing. He looked down at the King’s army, pulled up in defensive lines. Their stand would be made here, at the fortress of Ostagar. Their stand against the invading force of Orcs, Goblins, Ogres and various other monsters.
Lythari frowned as he looked at monster’s force, lining up to soon rush forward in an attempt to overwhelm the Drakos forces. But there was no sign of the Dragon, the Dragon that lead the horde. The Dragon that had destroyed his tribe.
Lythari looked sideways at the elven hunters with him. They carefully prepared their bowstrings, counted and readied arrows, and gave short prayers to the gods. They were all that he had left of his tribe, spared only because they had been looking into rumors of Orcish raiders. One looked up at him, Dymol, a friend since childhood, and they silently nodded at each other. Dymol went back to his preparations.
Lythari closed his eyes and immediately found himself looking into the brilliant green eyes of his Lifemate. Their newborn daughter cradled in her arms as she smiled with love at him. His eyes snapped open and he shook his head to banish the memory.
Down below trumpets echoed out and the armies clashed. The hunters began to steadily take aim and release shaft after shaft at the enemy below. Each orc killed, each goblin impaled was revenge for their tribe. Return fire struck Dymol, lodging in his shoulder. He collapsed and cried out. Lythari rushed over and held his hands to the wound. Muttering words of power, green energy leeked through the gaps between his fingers and the arrow worked it’s way out. Dymol nodded his thanks and retrieved his bow, returning to the fight.
Lythari went back to the railing and looked upon the battle. The monsters seemed to have broken through the lines, small melees breaking out everywhere. He spied the human king fighting desperately against two orcs when something pricked his ears. A sound. A sound of something big hurtling through the air. He looked up in time to see the catapult boulder smash into the parapet where he and his friends were standing. His vision shifted so rapidly that he could not make out anything, and a great sense of vertigo struck him. Seconds later the ground struck him as well.
His body shattered he barely had the strength to move his head enough to see that he was now down below, where the battle raged. He saw the orc approaching, spear held high. He desperately tried to move his limbs, but the pain was to great.
He looked up as the orc stood over him, spear raised. He closed his eyes, and summoned the memory, the memory of his lifemate and child. Her laughing green eyes were his last thought as the orc spear ripped through his right eye socket and into his brain.
***
There was but one sensation. Thump.
***
Lythari stood against the railing. He looked down at the army, pulled up in defensive lines. Their stand would be made here, at the fortress. Their stand against the invading force of Orcs, Goblins, Ogres and various other monsters.
Lythari frowned as he looked at monster’s force, lining up to soon rush forward in an attempt to overwhelm the defenders. But there was no sign of the Dragon, the Dragon that lead the horde. The Dragon that had done something to him.
Lythari looked sideways at the elven hunters with him. They carefully prepared their bowstrings, counted and readied arrows, and gave short prayers to the gods. One looked up at him, a friend since childhood though he could not place his name, and they silently nodded at each other. The elf went back to his preparations.
Lythari closed his eyes and immediately found himself looking into the brilliant green eyes of an elf. A newborn babe cradled in her arms as she smiled with love at him. His eyes snapped open and he shook his head to banish the memory.
Down below trumpets echoed out and the armies clashed. The hunters began to steadily take aim and release shaft after shaft at the enemy below. Each orc killed, each goblin impaled seemed to mean something to the elves. Return fire struck an elf, the same one who’s name was so elusive, lodging in his shoulder. He collapsed and cried out. Lythari rushed over and held his hands to the wound. Muttering words of power, green energy leeked through the gaps between his fingers and the arrow worked it’s way out. The elf nodded his thanks and retrieved his bow, returning to the fight.
Lythari went back to the railing and looked upon the battle. The monsters seemed to have broken through the lines, small melees breaking out everywhere. He spied an important looking human fighting desperately against two orcs when something pricked his ears. A sound. A sound of something big hurtling through the air. He looked up in time to see the catapult boulder smash into the parapet where he and his friends were standing. His vision shifted so rapidly that he could not make out anything, and a great sense of vertigo struck him. Seconds later the ground struck him as well.
His body shattered he barely had the strength to move his head enough to see that he was now down below, where the battle raged. He saw the orc approaching, spear held high. He desperately tried to move his limbs, but the pain was to great.
He looked up as the orc stood over him, spear raised. He closed his eyes, and summoned the memory, the memory of the beautiful elf and child. Her laughing green eyes were his last thought as the orc spear ripped through his right eye socket and into his brain.
***
The sensation again, joined by a sense of warmth. Thu-Thump.
***
Lythari stood against the railing. He looked down at an army, pulled up in defensive lines. Their stand would be made here, at a fortress. Their stand against the invading force of Orcs, Goblins, Ogres and various other monsters.
Lythari frowned as he looked at monster’s force, lining up to soon rush forward in an attempt to overwhelm the defenders. There was something he was looking for, something that’s absence disturbed him, but he could not remember what.
Lythari looked sideways at the elves next to him. They carefully prepared their bowstrings, counted and readied arrows, and gave short prayers. One looked up at him, and for some reason they silently nodded at each other. The elf went back to his preparations.
Lythari closed his eyes. His eyes snapped open and he shook his head.
Down below trumpets echoed out and the armies clashed. The elves began to steadily take aim and release shaft after shaft at the enemy below. Return fire struck an elf, lodging in his shoulder. He collapsed and cried out. Lythari rushed over and held his hands to the wound. Muttering words of power, green energy leeked through the gaps between his fingers and the arrow worked it’s way out. The elf nodded his thanks and retrieved his bow, returning to the fight.
Lythari went back to the railing and looked upon the battle. The monsters seemed to have broken through the lines, small melees breaking out everywhere. Something pricked his ears. A sound. A sound of something big hurtling through the air. He looked up in time to see the boulder smash into the parapet where he and the elves were standing. His vision shifted so rapidly that he could not make out anything, and a great sense of vertigo struck him. Seconds later the ground struck him as well.
His body shattered he barely had the strength to move his head enough to see that he was now down below, where the battle raged. He saw the orc approaching, spear held high. He desperately tried to move his limbs, but the pain was too great.
He looked up as the orc stood over him, spear raised. He closed his eyes as the orc spear ripped through his right eye socket and into his brain.
***
The warmth surrounded him, seeming to permeate his being. The sound intensified, and settled in his chest. Thu-Thump, Thu-Thump, Thu-Thump…