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On your sixteeth birthday you are grown. Now a man , you step into a new role as prince to the fae court. Be wary of your choices, from this very moment you can lead your people to victory or doom...
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“We are blessed by the spirits of the forest, our trusted familiars and we call upon their strength as we head into battle. Bring us guidance, honour us on the fields of death. As we pay tribute to the ancestors of our court.”
You bow your head in warriors’ prayer as your father, King Kiernan ushers you forward in the highest structure in the kingdom. In the region of Aielheim, royal capital of the fae kingdom at least whilst your family rules. You glance out of the window and see nothing but clouds knowing that everyone outside the religious walls stare towards the clouded cathedral above. The crowning ceremony only witnessed by a select few of your families trusted allies.
Your mother comes forward holding a red velvet cushion, where a thin golden crown lays. A silver jewel cradled by golden pair of wings forming a perfect circle. Your father comes to her side.
“Do you”, his voice loud and boastful, “Delsin Blackthorn son to Morelle and Kiernan, claim the right to the throne?”
[[Say Yes]]
[[Nod]]
[[Take The Crown]]Your father regards you with curiosity, where your mother simply smiles. He places a firm hand on your shoulder.
“I’m proud of you son, fulfilling your duty. Bestow glory on the Blackthorn name, may your reign be long and fruitful.”
“I will father”, you answer respectfully.
He places the crown on your head and you bow respectfully.
[[Continue]]
Your mother's gaze shifts to your father who regards you with grinding impatience.
“You have a tongue do you not?” he growls, “Are you to lead our armies with mumbles and grunts? Find your voice!”
“I can do this father,” you mutter weakly.
Morelle passes the cushion to a fae priest. An old man with a moss green robe and slick grey hair with thick brows. She places a soothing hand on your father’s shoulder. He sighs and closes in eyes before his gaze meets yours.
“The choices you make can be the salvation or destruction of thousands of soldiers. The meek inheriting the earth is a mortal sentiment. Fae kings conquer all understand?”
Breathing heavily you answer.
“Yes”.
[[Continue]] Placing the crown on your head. Your mighty wings spread behind your back, dark as the night and razor sharp. Your father beams at you, whilst the queen mother’s feature stand still, her lips a thin line.
“The throne and the battle our mine.” You beat your chest and your father mimics your movement beating his own. His brown leather wings quivering at his sides.
“See the fire in his spirit?” he booms with pride. “Go and address your people”. He laughed a hoarse barking sound.
[[Continue]]
You approach the grand wooden doors and push them open. You heart booms in your chest. The cathedral sits on a floating island surrounded by a fence of short cobbled stone. You walk to the edge and look over to see your people wings brushing hard. But you don’t walk in, you press an ear against the aged door hearing angry voices inside.
“Prince Delsin?” a female fae with straw-coloured hair and wings in thick armour looks to you. Clearly eager to celebrate your coronation, and discuss battle strategy. But you manage to over hear you mother’s agitated voice from behind the door.
“Do you think this is wise my love. I understand in order to gain respect from his soldiers he must fight beside them. But why at Fort Meynell? The more pressing concern is enemies we have amongst the court that disguise themselves as allies. One of them will try attempt in the rush of battle. They will want him to die in battle, and may even send assailants under the guise of help. We have kept uirfank scouts close in the castle.”
uirfanks were wingless fairies. They were not well respected within the court. But there mortal like appearance made them great spies. Some were stationed amongst human villages to gain knowledge for your people. But never in the royal castle as it was surrounded by a cage of iron, deadly to your race. Under your rule, they may yet rise above their station if given the chance.
Something keeps you rooted to the spot. You hear growl from behind you.
“Your people wish to celebrate your highness, please come join us?” A white-winged soldier speaks bobbing in the air as his wings beat back and forth. His tone bright with merriment as he awaits your answer.
What do you do?
[[Listen to hidden conversation and dismiss your people.|Listen]]
OR
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Korus Lockland lives in the forest region of Alheim, a collection of temples held up by enchanted vines overlooking a giant waterfall. You find him watch the water crash standing on top of his humble dwelling.
"Do you believe we have a maker? I despise that the best and worst of my life are the chaotic machinations of some great overlord."
He waits for your response.
[[Yes]]
OR
[[No]]"I thought you would. I can’t help but feel that whoever created the world wants us to solve a problem they couldn’t understand. What do you think it is?" he awaits your response.
"To find meaning, when the world tries to tell you that there is none. This war has been fought for centuries. Before we were born, I sure your people wanted you to train with our court for this exact purpose. To see how others live and incorporate it into your way of life and move forward enlighted. Maybe the creator is waiting for a surprise, themselves?"
Korus contemplates your words, his face curious before staring out to the waterfall again. You nudge him, motioning to a boat gliding near bye. Someone waves to you. Your wings flutter heavily as you and Korus near it.
[[Land on The Boat]] “Really? Then how do you keep yourself tethered? I suppose you have to being a prince and all. I think of all the stories the magi have told us over the years. I can’t help but feel chosen, with the magic that flows through my wings. But so many of us have died. I mean I could have easily been a mortal. I just wonder sometimes if there is such a plan that I just don’t know about. I guess you’ll be deciding the fate of our people. I’m sorry you don’t need to hear all that”
“It's fine Korus, father said the same thing”
“Ouch I said I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologise. I just think there are terrible things that happen in the world sickness, war and famine. Even with all our gifts, so many are lost in infinite suffering. So if there truly is a maker, does he laugh at our pain? Is it sport for them? I don’t know the secrets of the world all I know is what I can do. I choose to live and find happiness it fleeting moments.
I think we were born in a world drenched in conflict. And all the questions in the world are recycled. The conversation has been had by countless others before us Korus. We all have different ways of living, my only want is for the safety of the ones I cherish.
You land a playful kick to his side and he smiles.
He gets up and massages where you kicked him, and says that their urifank are waiting to report to him. You join him and fly into one of the floating boats.
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The boat expertly carved with white sale, seagulls scream in the distance as workers walk around carrying various weapons around the deck. One brunette haired uirfank maiden comes up to you giving a full report of her time in the village. Her eyes are an unnatural shade of pink, her fae heritage so strong in her eyes yet no wings.
“The mortal monarch sent word in the lesser villages demanding that anyone strong enough to carry a weapon must fight in the battle. They say most he keeps his most trusted guard by the castle, in case we try to attack the caged castle.”
You hear the ‘we’ and discomfort rests in your stomach. Many uirfank have pledged themselves for the battle. Hoping their participation will earn them respect. But you know your king father, sees them as less than pawns. They were to be the first wave to deplete the numbers. Wingless or not they were braver than most. She goes on.
“Their weapons have been fortified with iron, the royal armoury was recalled a week ago. I wasn’t able to find out why. I wish I had more to report Prince Delsin.” You hear a flapping in the distance. A soldier in a smooth blackthorn armour hovers beside the ship and beats his chest addressing you. His eyes then linger on the uirfank maiden and disapproval wrinkles his features.
"You father wishes to have a word with you my liege. It's an honour to go into battle with you".
His grey wings made broad strokes in the air as he set off to return to the rest of the soldiers. You notice that the boats carrying the uirfark begin to glide in close formation to one another. Stomach tightening as the reality sets in.
Korus seems to sense your apprehension and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You can do this,'' he says firmly. “With the information we have learned the mortal king has underestimated the pride of our people. Fort Meynell is not his to claim. Go to your father I will ready the soldiers”.
You go to the grand tower, secluded looking over a beautiful ocean, seagulls scream as they pass you by. You land on the balcony of your fathers chambers, he watches your descent, his expression solemn.
“You called for me father”, you say, keeping your tone respectful.
“Follow me”, he takes you through his room the walls decorated with swords and arrows, the bed laid with silk and pelts from his various hunts. he leads towards an archway exposing a spiral staircase. You look at him, he motions for you to descend an you obey without a word.
The walk deeper into darkness and follow the sound of your fathers steps. Your eyes adjust to the dark and you feel a slight chill in the air. there is a light up ahead. Taking form, growing bigger until you understand what it is. It almost glows as it stands upright in the darkness. A gold plated suit of armour.
“This was worn by my father during the rebellion of the harpies. He flew into battle and banished them from the court. They say the strength of his conviction blinded them. I want you to wear this into the battle, lead our people remind them of who’s in charge.”
You picture yourself in it illuminated on the field carving through soldiers like butter, even now you sense the ancient power that lies within it. But you also envision yourself alongside your soldiers in simple black, un. What are titles to men who want you dead, perhaps uniformity will help you prevail?
What do you wear into battle?
[[Wear Gold Blackthorn crest armour|Gold]]
OR
[[Wear Simple armour among soldiers|Black]]The uirfank ships are the first to go. Knowing they are more than capable you still feel a tremor of guilt as their ships go past the cover of the mountains. Warding magic works better in locations that don’t receive a lot of human traffic. But they were going into their territory now...
You breathe a deep sigh gripping a spiked mace at your side. You study its weight absent-mindedly tossing from hand to hand. Korus yells out his eyes widening in horror you follow his gaze.
The ships are blasted from the sky by a beam of neon pink light. Something about the surge of light feels familiar.
“No!” the words erupt from your lips. You see uirfank soldiers fall from the ship as bits of wood are blasted from the sky. The ship dives towards the earth, screams of shock and horror fill the air and the winged soldiers that remain airborne by your side shout aghast. There is a thunderous crash as ship collides with the earth.
For a moment there is nothing but silence. Until a roar of fury charges from the opposite side of the mountain. Anger boils as a million questions spring to your mind. How many survived the crash? What was it that hit the ship? How many mortal men will you have to end this day?
You scream in response.
“Charge!”
Battle cries ring out from behind you as they follow your command. You fly towards the crash ready to defend those who survived and kill those who caused it. Fate answers your call as you round the mountain you see men in silver armour running towards the uirfank soldiers with their swords raised. A few are on horseback whilst others wield bows and arrows. Before landing you sport Fort Meynell in the far distance, and it hits you why the ambush occurred. Attack the fae before they could use the castle's natural defences. So the battle may not be as easy but by the elder gods of the fae court you will win.
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You land by the ruined ships bits of charred wood crackle and burn. Parts of it are still in tact, though pink embers dazzle on the wreck. You see the uirfank maiden that reported to you carry a soldier and place behind a great boulder. His leg bent in a grotesque fashion. She then stand her face holding a deep gash, her pink eyes are lit with rage. Other uirfank soldiers stumble forward, some with minor wounds. A few cry angry tears as they throw back glances to the broken ship, thinking of the comrades they have lost. But for now they can only be avenged.
The human soldiers advance forward.
Uirfank soldiers meet them just as fiercly, clashes of metal ring out loud and screams and grunts of pain build as both fae and morals die by combat. Arrows shoot towards the sky sending winged soldies falling to their deaths.
You sprint foward throwing your mace at a soldier rushing towards you. Caught of guard her fliches and the mace wraps around him crushing his armour. Its designed to be as much a lasso as a blunt tool of torture. You press a trigger that acts a retract, pulling the soldier towards you. His scream of panic growing louder as he nears until he is trembling heap before you.
"Fae Filth!", he spits.
[[Time to Fight]]
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"You won't win, you fae piece of--"
His words are cut of from swift kick of your boot. His head slumps to the side and you take your mace back.
A human soldier sees this and races towards you. Sword raised.
"BASTARD!", He yells advancing on you.
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He stares at you wide eyed. Until he spits at your feet. Your breath heavily taking a knife from your belt. You plunge it into his neck and feel him gurgle as life leaves his eyes.
A human soldier sees this and yells.
"BASTARD!" He screams raising his sword.
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You've studied half of your life training under you father and various elders of the court. You breath catches, and you feel the surge of energy run down your spine. Warming your blood, pumping your heart. heat shoots from your fingertips as white light burns the soldier from the inside out. His skin blackens and chars and you think of the uirfank soldiers and he bucks and writhes on the floor.
A human soldier sees your work and he dashes towards screaming.
[[Face him]](if: $Gold is true)[You are protected by the golden armour, the sword remains stuck in the golden plating of your ancestral armour. You laugh as you smash the mace into the side of the soldier’s head. He crumples to the ground motionless.
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A fae soldier, female tall and blonde regards you in the suit. You expect to see triumph and warmth in her face but her features twist in rage.
"Your father has no respect for my family at all. I bet it was his idea for you to adorn that golden suit. Even on a battlefield he still feels the need to show off, such arrogance...
"What are you talking about?" you ask truly bewildered.
"I am a direct descendant of the leader of Harpies, daughter to the Harpy tribe! My mother didn't want to rule, she just wanted to escape the deviant nature of the Blackthorn family. I doubt he knew I still alive fighting for our people. I was stashed way before your grandfather could end the bloodline. Well tonight I'll return the favor. Spin a tale about the tragic accident the prince befell. The same way the Blackthorns told the court they purged everyone I loved out of protection for the fae!"
From her back she withdraws a small pouch. She reaches into it and sand pours from her fingertips. She mutters some incantation, words that are unfamiliar from your studies. The sand launches into the air whips around her frame in a blurry haze. You see her stand in the sandstorm before a brilliant flash of light occurs. You shield your eyes, when you look back, she wields to great swords clear as glass and charges at you!
[[Fend off Attack]]]
(else:)[You are not protected by the simplistic armour! A stinging deep pain hits against your shoulder blade. You curse and roll to avoid the soldiers' second blow. You nurse a deep gash as blood pools from where the iron sword hit. The soldier laughs . You launch into an aerial assault, grabbing him by the ankle as your wings ache propelling you upwards and you dangle him like a play thing. Rising higher and higher, your muscles protest against his weight held by your arm.
He begs and pleads, but you don't care. You watch him fall landing on the earth with a sickening thud. Some urifanks soldiers cheer as they see the impact of his unceremonious landing.
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[[Follow Them Into Battle]]. ]The fae prince Delsin Blackthorn has many things to consider. But is there another path he could have taken? There are many secrets hidden in the dark dependent on his you choices. Its up to you to discover them...
To play again close the tab and return to text adventures.
FEALTY OF THE FAEYou place a hand to the metal expecting it to be cold to the touch but there is warmth radiating from it. You shudder and turn to you father, his smile all to knowing….
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(set:$Gold to true)
[[PREPARE FOR WAR!]] You reach out to touch it but, at the last second you hands fall slack at your sides. You sigh, knowing how difficult your father can be but if you explain…
“Father…”
He holds up a hand his own wings quivering with silent fury, you gulp as his eyes close with concentration. He speaks and his voice is unsteady.
“I appreciate the responsibility that has fallen on your shoulders and as future ruler to our people I expect nothing but greatness from you. But there will come a day were you will not have my wisdom to guide you. I have already had my intentions questioned today, I would hope you be more practical. But if you fail, remember who you choose to listen to and who you cast aside”. He finishes with a deafening finality.
Protest builds in your throat. But he is gone leaving you in the harsh golden glare of the armour.
You think of how you are putting your life on the line. How this could be the last words ever spoken between you and your father, and anger rises in your chest. Does the man care for anything but his reputation? You shake your head knowing in your heart what you are sacrificing.
You head back to your chambers and don the simple black suit.
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>
</div>
[[PREPARE FOR WAR!]]An arrow hits an uirfank soldier to your left. He falls and groans clutching his knee. You grab the nearest soldiers running by their arms and use your wings to fly upwards. The mortal soldiers aim up, but before they can let loose their arrows you drop the uirfank on top of them. They collapse and you hear a grunt of pain. The soldiers lay on the still on the grass.
Fear clutches your chest as the neon pink light returns. Blasting winged soldiers out of the sky. Some are quick to evade, others are not as fortunate. As the feathers of their wings scorched,they plummet and meet their ends. You race for the source, knowing you'll be less of a target on the ground.
A soldier with red hair wears a crisp silver suit of armour though he has no visible weapon...
Then you see it a small orb of pink energy. You call out a series of commands and heads snap towards you.
“Korus take out his generals!”
You see Korus fly in using a bladed staff, he decapitates soldiers flanking the red haired man.
You yell for a serpentine formation. Winged soldiers fly in every direction, a vortex of fae surrounding the lone soldier. As you all swarm him, he randomly fires the orb at whoever he can. You get closer and closer until you catch his arm. He cries out in anger as you tussle for the orb. Confusion grows as he seems just as strong as you. You both jump as lightning strikes out of nowhere, in the direction of the castle. But he turns back again, wrestling to get his arm and the orb free.
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"Let go of me!" he hisses through gritted teeth before digging his silver gloved fingers on the exposed flesh of your shoulder wound. Steam rises from his touch and you scream at the searing pain. Despite this you wrench orb from his hand and kick him he falls to the ground winded.
You yell for your comrades to get back, someone yells your name. But this must be done.
Using your mace, you use all your strength to bring the full might of it down on the orb. It explodes bathing the entire field in pink light and everyone is blasted backward.
Everything goes black.
<audio autoplay>
<source src=https://tempassetje.yolasite.com/resources/Thunder-Mike_Koenig-315681025.mp3>
</audio>
[[Wake up]] You try to speak sense to her, her face becoming familiar as you dance away from her blades. Your mace holds steady against her swords. But she is well practiced her face contorted in effort. Soranique Greenmist, she works in the kitchens of the banquet hall. Korus usually made comments as to her beauty. But all you see is death. The neon light of her magic was different to the one that attacks the ship.
All your soldiers are to pre-occupied in battle to notice the treasonous soldier attacking you.
Why now? You knew your family could be ruthless but most ruling families were our out of necessity. Someone else would take your place otherwise. And so it begins in a battle to protect your people, someone wishes to end your reign.
For a moment you falter and she sweeps your legs with a well placed kick. Your wings jut out to balance you. When she stabs at your left. You scream as a raking pain tears at your wing. Like muscles being ripped. As you jerk in pain she kicks your mace from your hand. You are left flailing and shouting as you find yourself pinned to the earth.
Triumph is written on her face as she lifts the glass sword to your neck.
"Any last words?" she asks smugly. Her breathing is laboured, but her eyes are hungry.
"Do what you must. I imagine you have dreamed of this moment." You say, your tone oddly respectful.
"I have,'' she smiles victorious preparing for her final strike.
Taking the glass sword pinned in your wing you rip the weapon from flesh. Hissing in anguish, she is caught by surprise and actually gasps in shock.
What do you do?
[[Show mercy]]
[[Kill her]]
"I swear on my life, Soranique Greenmist...Whatever harm my family has done to yours, I will make up for. I am not my father, I can change the way our kingdom is run."
She watches you with cold eyes as you plead with her.
"I'm granting you mercy, with everything you've suffered I understand. But the fate of our people is a stake. I don't have time for your vendettas. Turn your weapons to the human soldiers and I will forget this treason'.
She laughs a humourless laugh not taking her eyes off you before stabbing you in the middle.
"The biggest threat to our people is your family. You could never understand Prince Delsin, the less of your kin the better..."
At first the world goes cold. Then grey, you hear Korus yell your name. Until there is nothing at all.
[[You have died]]You never anticipated that you would have to take a fae life today. But you are left no choice. Your a prince of the capitol city, and there is only so much you can pardon. With the word still slick with your own blood. You strike, she screams staring at the great glass sword buried in her chest. But before she can mutter another word she falls.
You pick up your mace. Taking down human soldier one by one.
The sky turns a brilliant shade of warm orange. Hours go by. The field drenched in pools of crimson. As human and fae lie on the grass, their eyes unmoving. Tired. Wounded. Breathless.
<audio autoplay>
<source src=https://tempassetje.yolasite.com/resources/Psycho%20Scream-SoundBible.com-1441943673.mp3>
</audio>
The war is won.
<style> img {
max-width:100%;
max-height: 100%;
}
</style>
<img src=https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/12/25/22/32/gladiator-1931077_960_720.jpg>
</div>
[[Take the Castle]]<style> img {
max-width:100%;
max-height: 100%;
}
</style>
<img src=data:image/jpeg;base64,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>
</div>
The castle was searched head to toe. It's a ruin, but with the swift combined numbers of your people, it's former grandeur can be restored. You to the main bedroom located in the heart of Fort Meynell to find a dusty bedroom, broken four poster bed and wooden furniture that has not aged well. The stone walls miss great chunks in some places and most of the glass windows have been smashed in.
The sheets on the bed are ruffled, Korus knocks on the half opened door.
"We should send word to Alheim soon", his voice is happy. Proud of our success, but I need more than an old castle. What did the soldiers die for otherwise?
"Give me some time, I'll call you when I'm ready" you say.
He raised his eyebrows and ask what you are looking for. You stare around the room and he shrugs leaving you alone and closing the door behind him.
A long film of dust covers everything, yet something catches your eye on the bed. It emanates heat. You find a blank piece of parchment. When you touch it a symbol appears.
<audio autoplay>
<source src=https://tempassetje.yolasite.com/resources/Soldiers%20Marching-SoundBible.com-1108480953%281%29.mp3>
</audio>
[[Touch it]]<style> img {
max-width:100%;
max-height: 100%;
}
</style>
<img src=https://p2.piqsels.com/preview/744/352/62/grim-reaper-skull-death-skeleton.jpg>
</div>
[[Go back|Fend off Attack]](if: $Celebrate is true)[You wake up feeling groggy and shudder to see a fae soldier lying on top of you. His mouth open in what looks like laughter. It's like your entire body is filled with ice. You hear Korus call out for you and hands grab you by the arms pulling from a heap of bodies. Loyal Soldiers have died protecting, shielding you from the blast of the orb you. You fall to your knees and stare at their unblinking faces, committing them to memory. Pounding the burning earth with your fist. You see the brown circular dome of ruin where the orb smashed at the center of lush greenery, the crisp bodies. Gratitude fills your heart. You wish you thank them. You bow your head in sadness, Korus pats your back.
An unknown fae soldier stands before you.
"They new the risk my prince. Your brave actions, their sacrifice...it won the battle."
You look around. Your numbers are greatly depleted. But we have won, you remember what its all for. So you rally your troops, some take to the sky others walk. You ask Korus and few other soldiers to check that the castle is uninhabited.
Looking around you notice something odd. Where is the orb wielder?
The soldier speaks again.
"He escaped during the blast. The magic took as many of his. He seemed to disturbed by what happened."
You make your way on foot, your wing burnt and bleeding. Too tired to fly each step sends a jolt of pain.
Korus returns nearly half an hour later declaring that the castle is completely empty.
[[Take the Castle]]]
(else:)[You blink, your vision feels hazy. You feel a weight on top of you and everything snaps into focus. Korus' unblinking eyes stare back at yours. Tears spill from your eyes and your carefully roll him off of you. You cradle him like the action can somehow bring him back, but Korus died defending you. His wings so brutally disfigured.
A soldier steps forward unsure of himself as he approaches.
"We saw what you were doing my liege...such bravery. There had been talk in the village after your ceremony."
Realisation dawns on you, and venom feels you thoughts. The injustice of it all.
"Oh what!" he flinches at the contempt in voice. "Because I didn't take the time to dance among the people? I'm here to rule, not party. Would you have laid your life on the line for me, had I drank some ale with you! Is that it?"
Many soldiers uirfank and winged look to the ground uncomfortable. As prince your every move counts. You commit this lesson to memory, as you command some soldiers to carry Korus. You think of what you were doing instead of sharing stories in the banquet hall, and you remember the cathedral. The whispered mystery of Fort Meynell. It must yield answers or Korus died for nothing. You look up to your soldiers hovering in the orange sky. You order them to check whether Meynell has any mortal men inside.
One of them suggests that sending word to Alheim of your victory should be the next move. He quails under your murderous glare. If they were unsure before, then they should know what kind of prince you are. The uirfank maiden with the bright eyes, comes to your side. You welcome her company, her motive was to protect her people. Even in spite of what they thought of her, you relate to her in ways you wish you never would.
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She says her name is Aurora Voss. She also explains that the red headed orb wielder escaped. Saying that when everyone ducked for cover the neon magic had no effect on him. He dashed into the fray of mortal soldiers and vanished leaving his men to fight and die...
So the coward brought a lethal weapon that killed a loyal friend and ran.
You follow behind Korus' body, calling anything a victory sounds like a lie. Despite all his efforts your wing is slightly burnt making it difficult to fly. But you don't mind as long as your eyes remain on Korus. If they drop him another fae will die today.
The winged soldiers come back after a while, your feet sore from the walk, saying that you are near 15 minutes from the Fort.
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Annoyance pricks at you and you wave them away. They mutter and you hear one grumble something about your disregard for your subjects.
“That castle has to be reclaimed its too important to our people, it was abandoned after the Lightborns were slaughtered all those years ago. But it seems the mortal king has promised it to one of his councilmen. Some political move I assume, but they think so little of our species I imagine to be a hidden slight to whoever it's been awarded to. But it shall never belong to a human courtier” Kiernan grumbles. You hear him pace backwards and forwards before he continues.
“There is magic in the wrecked castle which is why it has stood strong despite the battle. I believe the remnants of it will help our soldiers during our attack. It was one of the last strongholds before our people sought refuge in the sky. “
“It’s the remnants I’m concerned about,'' your mother snipes.
“Queen Morelle if I may interject”, the old priest’s soft withered voices cuts in met with a brief silence, before your mother talks again.
“Speak freely,” she says testily.
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“I have kept my silence all these years, but the stories about that castle will only reignite once the battle starts. Not everyone is out to get you. Many in the court are happy with you reign. Surely this fight can be tasked to other the other fae? The knights of Tengu perhaps?”
A pang of recognition hits you as your best friend Korus Lockland’s forefathers are mentioned.
“Thank you for your advice old man but no…” your father's voice cuts in all formality dropped.
“Kiernan…” Morelle murmured disapprovingly. Though your not sure if it was for his rudeness or the fact that priests’ suggestion suited her.
“The fae rely on strength the choice I made was for my people. I provided a kinder fate for many that terrible night. Casualty or not, I will not be haunted a moment longer. Our victory tonight shall be a testament to that.”
“I am happy with my post my king, but in my old age. I hear thunderous clouds. And not because our people walk the sky. I believe our there was more to the legend than suspected. Something we may have overlooked. You know the ancient tale...greed grows the seed, but beware the thunder of those you plunder. I fear something is coming for what we took...”
The priest says something but is silenced by a loud crunch. The windows of the cathedral flash a bright neon red before returning to their usual colour. Your father’s magic flaring in anger.
“You are mistaken...” you father’s voice is dangerously low, “You may regret your part in what happened that night. But everyone involved has prospered. Discuss this again and see your title stripped. The Lightborns flaunted their heritage and their stubbornness is what got them killed. What will your cowardice cost you?” You hear footsteps
There are still so many things that you do not understand. Not wishing to be detected you step away from the aged door and turn the edge of the floating isle. Your followers are gone, and you imagine your subjects rushing to their loved ones to complain about a prince too conceited to celebrate with his lowly subjects. Wishing to finalise battle plans and to see a friendly face, you prepare for your flight to Korus Lockland’s home.
[[Find your friend]]Not wishing to deal with whatever your father’s outburst is about. You shake your head and step away from the door. Your father has never shied away from harsh truths, any ugly realities would have been brought to you if so important right? Queen Morelle was a fighter in her youth, But a mother would always coddle their young prince or not. You happily soar upwards, feeling the delicious ache in your back as your wings flutter, collecting wind and speed. You feel the wind whip against your face and your wings spread backwards and forwards.
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Bursting through the clouds you scream with delight and zoom past your people who cheer and woop following you upwards until you are all bathed in sunlight. You come to a halt seeing nothing but clouds and the silhouettes of your followers. You beat against your chest and they mimic the motion. You smile at them, to your delighty they all beam back. They begin to chant your name, you laugh heartily before raising a hand to silence them.
You breath heavily and address your brave compatriots.
“My people! I am truly humbled. You elected my father many years ago as your, you have instilled values and strength and have kept our family, our kingdom in ongoing glory.”
They chant and whoop and your make an effort to look in all their faces. You continue, confidence growing as your heart thunders in your chest.
“Go the the royal banquet hall, feast with your loved ones. Grow stronger for the upcoming battle. Remember why it is we fight! It is a terrible truth that we may lose some tonight, but your sacrifice, your conviction betters the entirety of our court! These mortals will never covet our land or our people again. Let us remind all fae why it is we are the capital! I must finalize battle strategy with my second in command. Be well my kin.”
More shouts and whoops as many fly towards you to clasp hands, to bow, to sing sacred songs of fae ancestors. To touch wings, a psychical wordless vow. A solemn oath to shield each other with your lives. They depart making their way to the banquet hall as commanded and fly towards the forest region of Alheim to Korus Lockland.
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(set:$Celebrate to true)
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<img 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>
</div>
There is nothing but silence as you march to take the castle. Soldiers don't even look your way, afraid that your grief will turn into wrath. You tell soldiers to have guards posted at every entrance, just in case there is another wave of mortal soldiers. You search the castle for a grand bed chamber. In the belly of Fort Meynell you locate a room with a four poster bed and wooden furniture all lined with heavy dust.
It truly is a relic you think. The room appears to be an unused nursery. You command soldiers the soldiers to lay Korus Lockland's body on bed. A cloud of dust rises as Korus is rested on the plump surface.
"Leave us" the soldiers leave the room without and word and the door closes behind them. Sobs build in your chest as you stare at you fallen friend. You draw closer to him expect some strategy or question to come from his lips. But he features are frozen in death. Cold to the touch as you use your fingers to close his eyes. Besides his head you notice a blank piece of parchment.
You pick it up. A symbol glows on the surface.
<audio autoplay>
<source src=https://tempassetje.yolasite.com/resources/Soldiers%20Marching-SoundBible.com-1108480953%281%29.mp3>
</audio>
[[Press it]]it reads:
'To the life growing inside... I am writing this letter in hopes you never have to read it. I am yet to give you a name, But know the love that I have for you helps me draw breath. Magic still lows in my veins, so should you find my writing...you will know the truth in the ink I enchant. Most fae families have a certain powers given to them by the familiar spirits of the forest. But stories of our bloodline have been so wildly speculated that I often thought them folly, even when told to me as a young girl by my seniors. But I know the truth now. I heard a voice offering to protect the life growing inside me, I didn't realise I was with child. It was a time of war. I thought it was a wonderful dream at first, your father deserved an heir. Until Lightning struck our beloved Fort Meynell in the deal of night. Our walls were as strong as man who built them. Meynell Lightborn, the first of our line. But something felt different. The walls were alive with power. I thought I had gone mad. Something had struck in the very pit of our home or maybe in me. I felt it crackle and spark in my womb. Protect the light the voice told me. I wish I could. Bringing you into the world was a gift, but it has taken a great toll. I grow weaker by the day. If your father has not returned from battle, I will entrust you to one of our advisors to take you to another fae kingdom under another name. Hopefully this doesn’t come to pass. There treasonous snakes among us who would use this misfortune to have their land become the capitol. I hope the only greed that I have to fear is from mortal men, who don’t understand the sweet divinity of our kind.
I love you eternally.
But if we are lost to you. Find the spirit. Take your place with no apology and strike true.
Your Mother Kalani Lightborn'
You read over the parchment again and again. You call for Korus, he comes back in and you hand him the paper.
"I've known about the Lightborns since I was a child, even before I came to Alheim. Never would have dreamed they could be killed my mortals".
"What of this apparent baby?" you ask.
"If this letter is real, you may have a challenger in the future." he passes the parchment back before saying, "Delsin we should really send word."
You oblige him and he hums contently. A hummingbird flits into the room from the gaping hole in the wrecked stone wall. It lands on his outstretched hand. He speaks of the victory and how the castle has been reclaimed by the fae. The familiar spirit of the forest chirps happily before flying out of the room again. As you watch it leave you think of what this means for your court. Will the Blackthorns be as unlucky as the Lightborns? How was your family connected to to their demise? You think of the soldier wielding such power unknown to mortal men and the way the thunder roared when your skin made contact...
[[THE END]]
'To the life growing inside... I am writing this letter in hopes you never have to read it. I am yet to give you a name, But know the love that I have for you helps me draw breath. Magic still lows in my veins, so should you find my writing...you will know the truth in the ink I enchant. Most fae families have a certain powers given to them by the familiar spirits of the forest. But stories of our bloodline have been so wildly speculated that I often thought them folly, even when told to me as a young girl by my seniors. But I know the truth now. I heard a voice offering to protect the life growing inside me, I didn't realise I was with child. It was a time of war. I thought it was a wonderful dream at first, your father deserved an heir. Until Lightning struck our beloved Fort Meynell in the deal of night. Our walls were as strong as man who built them. Meynell Lightborn, the first of our line. But something felt different. The walls were alive with power. I thought I had gone mad. Something had struck in the very pit of our home or maybe in me. I felt it crackle and spark in my womb. Protect the light the voice told me. I wish I could. Bringing you into the world was a gift, but it has taken a great toll. I grow weaker by the day. If your father has not returned from battle, I will entrust you to one of our advisors to take you to another fae kingdom under another name. Hopefully this doesn’t come to pass. There treasonous snakes among us who would use this misfortune to have their land become the capitol. I hope the only greed that I have to fear is from mortal men, who don’t understand the sweet divinity of our kind.
I love you eternally.
But if we are lost to you. Find the spirit. Take your place with no apology and strike true.
Your Mother Kalani Lightborn'
You think of everything you have experienced this day. Of all the lives lost. The type of man your father is and how members of the court operate. Everyone longs for their home to be known as the capitol. Our people have always thrived on strength. But this is beyond murder, or treason. The lack of honour makes you sick.
This supposed child in the letter did they make it out alive? Did the mortal monarch end the Lightborn bloodline, or was it the handywork of your parent's. If you can even call them that...
[[THE END]] In war you must make quick choices! And time waits for no one, the soldier brings his mighty sword down upon you. Out of reflex your wings fly out in front of you to shield you from his fatal blow. But the iron sword cleaves right through them. The searing pain is beyond words as you crumple to the floor writhing in sheer agony. Stepping on your chest, he brings the blade down again. The world goes silent in a quick death.
You have died.
[[Go back|PREPARE FOR WAR!]]You have 5 seconds to choose one of the following:
[[knock him out->knock him out]]
[[Stab Him ->Stab him]]
[[Use Magic ->Use magic]]
(live: 5s)[
(go-to: "You have been killed!")
]
↶↷
On your sixteeth birthday you are grown. Now a man , you step into a new role as prince to the fae court. Be wary of your choices, from this very moment you can lead your people to victory or doom...
Begin Journey