Anthology of the 1st Painted War ( Fiction based on the Lifehunter vs Noble Knights)

SO Ill be posting all of the lore I did a while back for those few who remember and want to read it. Plus any other lore i can think of for recent USer Covenant Events.

“Oscar placed his iron shod boot on the Hands’s head, pressing the man/woman’s face against the cold stone floor of Priscilla’s sactum.

“You have failed wyrm” he announced, his voice thick with loathing. With a swift kick Oscar pushed the toe of his boots into the fallen mans stomach, which doubled him up coughing blood, then with a final push, Oscar sent the Hand over the edge.

From behind him a scream tore at the air. Part beastial roar, like that of an ancient dragon come again, part human, a lamentation of grief for a lost son, as Priscilla saw he favoured child slip into the abyss.

Oscar spared a second to glance behind him at the assembled Dragon Slayers, their bronze plates and leonine helms glinted in the dim half light, they hefted spears, long hafts that would find purchase in the ground so that the massive tips could piece dragon scales.

They stood several meters behind him, some clutching at their ears, some had thrust the spear into the ground so as not to be brought low by the dirge, other stood at the ready unaffected and ready to do Oscars bidding.
“Come my slayers, into the queen’s lair” he commanded and raised his own spear high over his head. The dragon slayers roared and charged after him into the open monastic ruin.

I meant to stay back of course, the fighting had been fierce and I was more often than not a liability on the field, though I had taken one of the abominations for my own with the blade Isaac had given me. He stood not five feet from me, his plate armour splendid, embossed ensign of the golden sun emblazoned on his chest. While I had seen knights fell their enemies by the dozen; I did not feel so proud of my kill, only a slight sadness when I had seen that the engorged body of the slain was a young woman.

“Stay close to me Farel” Isaac told me, wrenching my mind back into the present “This will be
dangerous”.


I nodded and followed him, the 13 of us stood in the entrance to Priscilla’s lair, a round arena with a light covering of snow. The temperature here seemed colder than the rest of the world and I shivered despite Isaac’s warmth, though to my eyes no snow seemed to be able to fall into this enclose wing of the Painted Fortress. Here I knelt and scooped a handful of snow. It was freezing, not necessarily unpleasantly so but the crystals of ice seemed different here.

Sheer black pillars rose around the edge with branching ledges between them. The overall feel was one of an arena yet there was no blood, no broken weapons or armour, no monuments to the dead. No stolen treasures or living comforts. It was completely empty apart from her.

The painted queen stood well over twelve feet tall, she had the appearance of a human, smooth white skin like velvet and a hair of the purest white cascaded down her shoulders. Though despite his she was not human and to any many this was plain. She was far too beautiful for human eyes, and radiated a bright glow that caused me to look away in awe. Draconic eyebrows, a thin curvature of scales, rested above reptilian amber eyes which scanned the room as the knights approached, her body was covered in a gown of fine winter furs, if in fact they were a gown at all. And most predominant was a long furred tail that protruded from the base of her spine which curled around by her legs. She was most regal in appearance if I do say, and her face belied a calmness and careful understanding like none I have ever seen. Though when Oscar approached it twisted into a fierce mask of hatred.

She simply stood there, made no move to cut Oscar down ,scythe in her hands, waiting.

Oscar walked forward pointing his spear at her. “Today your corruption is removed from this world. Your hand is dead and your exiles being put to the flame. Now you while join them” His voice was sonourous, and echoes of the wall, condemming.

The she spoke, softly at first but her voice grew stronger with each word. “Your knights has’t defiled this place of peace, we wished for aught but to be removed from the world. Why have thou brought war? We suffered enough in the world beyond and for that thou woulds’t condemn my children to die by sword and fire? Where has’t the honor of knights since departed to?”

He word were gentle, and belied a weight of sadness beyond what any of the knights could imagine. Some wept where they stood, others fell to their knees, and others, even Oscar, himself, felt ashamed.

However his duty compelled him to act, no guilt would stand in front of his duties to the people of Astora.


“You may be peaceful now but you have condemned yourselves with past crimes. You shelter murderers, and ffiends the like which my people have long suffered under. Your halls breed countless demons, mosters, and miscreants which may yet pose a danger for those outside the Veil. For the gods of anor londo and lost sentinels you will pay the ultimate price.”

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Lol

great storytelling Viral ,

Excellent writing & awesome choice of words



I remember reading another piece of Lore from you somewhere around this forum which I thought is amazing

The Etraiu bit? Thats still to come. Plus our awesome victory and betrayal.

Thus has bren the single worst cliffhanger of all time.

No seriously I will get it done

Lol how many times have I read that cliff hanger and not seen the conclusion?

Not reading it till its all up.

okay

ViralEnsign_ wrote:The Etraiu bit? Thats still to come. Plus our awesome victory and betrayal.

Im not sure if that's the part Im referring to , at first I thought Ive read it in Shkar's ''lore of the covenants'' thread , but unfortunately that's not the case.

It was quite a long story consisting of 3 or 4 parts if I remember correctly..it was very good stuff man , a lot of words were like of alien origin to me :silent:

With their leader gone and their numbers decreasing, the lifehunters have no hope in winning. Or do they? For out of the long forgotten passages hope enters, 3 that have been long forgotten Yuan Xiaotian the Egghead Monk filled with rage and madness so pure it corrupts the very land he steps on, Hawkeye Drake a master of the bow that can only matched by hes own master ,and the Dragon Priest Rin of the Ash

coz i can XD

OH I can write you into the proper lore if you want. Can you Pm me some Bio's on them?

Haven't read it yet Viral but I must say "F*** Yeah! More Lore!"

I'm waiting for Viral to officially finish his writings before I say anything concrete about all this. Last time I posted on here, I got the stink eye.

I'm still not sure if it's safe...

I definitely like the newer segment as well, I'm glad you understand the characters you didn't create well enough to do them justice. I rarely see that done properly.

I just finished another bit now here you guys go. Fresh off of the press.....

“ The gates shuddered under the weight of the Knight’s onslaught, their massive battering rams now fully brought to bear their wrath against the solid oak, buckling slightly with each blow. The scream of twisting iron bars and shattering of wood rang out across the courtyard that composed the main keep of the Lifehunter’s once proud bastion breaking on the tightly packed ranks of determined defenders.

They stood there, silent, unflinching, dutifully, knowing that the main force of the knights would soon be upon them. They shamed themselves not, no man wept for his lost family, nor for fear of death, not even those who were wounded were exceptions from this as stood to doubled over in silent pain.

The right flank was entirely silent where the remaining Gravesworn had taken up a defensive formation, their twisted and evil forms hunched over in malign prayer to their Lord Nito. Even “Howling Mad” Plaggius was quiet, his desire for ears now fully sated, his curiosities now focused on a small rent in his armour which seemed to be causing him no small amount of discord. Next to him was Wulf, his thick mane of snow white hair cascaded down the back of his head, his face covered in not only the blood and gore of his enemies but also his own where a knight had almost opened his face when a spike from a narrowly avoided mornigstar had torn the corner of his mouth. Thick canine fangs protruded from beneath thin, pale lips which seemed to curl up into a wolfish smile as his piercing blue eyes fixated directly on the gate ahead. At the forefront of the assembly of dead creatures stood the Dead knight Drake. Armoured in the black steel of his forbearers who journeyed with Gwyn into the Kiln of the First Flame he cut a striking figure. Taller than the other Gravesworn by a head, he towered over his foes cleaving them in twain with sweeping blows of his mighty halberd.

The center was held by the Eclipse, veterans of every conceivable field of combat, their lines, strong and proud, serried ranks of spear and sword armed infantry stood abreast, their arms gleaming amongst the falling snows. Here was where the line had been strengthened the most, the wounded had shuffled forwards after the speech using broken spears as crutches, or leaning against their brothers so as to remain standing. Here was where Etraiu would make his stand. Garbed in the thick brass armour he traditionally wore capped with the Crown of the Dark Sun, a gift from Gwyndolin, he was a beacon of resolve for his allies who at present were busy attending to his many wounds. Foremost amongst these was his Lady Wife Hihime, whose flowing orange robes and writhing halo of flame were tempered only by the coolness of he compassion as she dabbed at his forehead with a wet rag.

On the left glaring at the pair with a mixture of disgust and longing was Piastol and her Screamers. Clad in little more than some thin cloth around her chest, a pair of mismatching bracers, and some padded leather breaches she was perhaps one of the less dignified warriors on the field....Yet the massive Dragonbone Scythe she had hung over her shoulders commanded extreme respect from both her followers and most all of the Lifehunters, as snide comments about her would not be tolerated under pain of castration, or so she threatened. She flicked a long lock of silvery hair back over an ear and turned away hurriedly ensuring her formation of Screamers were up to scratch. The Screamers happened to be a band of Lifehunters that had come to follow Piastol and revere her as somewhat of an idol, however their screams if angony during the night let most of the Painted World knowing exactly how she treasured their loyalty. In battle they would surge for hacking and slashing with no regard bearing Piastol herself on a litter ensuring she could cut the head off any man stupid enough to face her.

All along the front lines the mutterings began to cease as the first of the iron bars, that held the mighty portal in place, gave way. Weapons were raised, and the clash of steel on steel rang out as the second buckled under the Knights scorn.... Then with a sonorous roar the gates blew open in a spray of wooden splinters and the Knights poured into the breach.

The Lifehunters tried to counter the charge head on but a flurry of activity in the chaos ahead saw a volley of lightening spears cut through their ranks demolishing the first shield wall and stopping their momentum at the gatehouses.

Then came the Berenike knights. Lumbering behemoths of steel plate and black iron great swords, charged in amongst the shattered front ranks bringing death and dismay to the Liefhunter lines. Then in reserve came the ordered Astoran spearmen and the remnants of the Throlundian Cleric Priests who set about pushing back the Screamers and Gravesworn from the wings.

The day could well have been lost then and there if not for the valiant efforts of Neyvn and Wulf who threw themselves against the Berenike Knights in a display of ferocious animalistic rage. Wulf narrowly ducked to avoid a blow determined to take the top of his head off before striking upwards at the Knight’s exposed face, putting three feet worth of steel through his face before turning on the others. Neyven, wounded badly during his combat with the Thorolundian Priest of Sun, was managing less well. He took another wound, the blade that caused it slipped between his iron hard scales and into the soft flesh below, bringing him to his knees. When the Knight rose up with the intention of giving the finishing blow Neyvn let loose a roar so loud it staggered the great warrior, before following up with a long spray of dragon’s fyre which turned the steel plate into a melting pot some thousand degrees hot.

While these two held the wavering lines in check the second shield wall of the Lifehunters regrouped and under Etriau’s unflinching command charged into the battle once more.

All about the courtyard was awash in a sea of crimson blood and severed limbs. Here and there wounded knights and Lifehunters would lay dying, screaming out their anger, hate, regrets to the swirling tides of combat that surrounded them. Men were trampled, pushed down under the weight of numbers, others went down with a spear in their guts, and some even simply lay down to die.

The solid clash of steel on steel greeted the combatants while flights of arrows continued to stream into the melee with little regard for human life. Sudden bursts of holy energy would be met with dazzling displays of pyromancy and spells would scream overhead exploding off in the rear of both armies’ lines amidst screams of terror and pain.

Etraiu’s mighty blade claimed many knights that day felling several with each laboured swing, cleaving mail, flesh, and bone with no distinction. On the left the Screamers began to buckle and Piastol went down in the middle of a ring of spears, though seconds later the air was rent with the cacophony of laughter as she set about her work.

Drake’s forces on the other hand had their flank well under control. The Astoran’s were finding no purchase in the solid lines the Gravesworn had formed. Andrastiea “the Impaler” was at the forefront parrying spear thrusts with her Scythes then darting forwards in a display of preternatural speed and grace, felling more knights as she went. At one point “Mad” Plaggius climbed the gatehouse and launched himself into the ranks of Thoroludian Priests losing an arm to a well placed sword swing but tearing the throats out of four men before returning to the Gravesworn lines, arm held hight above his head in triumph, a satisfied grinned stretched out across his face.

However this assault was joined by another. Oscar, knowing he would be unable to be present during the conflict had ensured that his men knew of the various paths up the mountain and so had dispatched a team of experienced knights, composed of mages led by a “Serious” Knight and a “White” Knight to flank the defenders lines. Finding no guards at the palisade wall by the cliffs the flanking force was unhindered when they clambered onto the shelf of stone and impaled bodies, and found themselves with few casualties, though some men had fallen during the climb.

They ploughed into the rearguard of the Gravesworn with all the force of an avalanche sweeping through Andrastiea’s lines of defence and into channelling Bonecallers who were attempting to summon Black Phantoms to aid in the fight. Drake however was quick to react and called his men off of the right gate house and redirected them to face the new threat, he himself striding to the front lines to remove the head of two well armoured knights, one a woman, the other a young man.

Seeing his lines of failing on the left and right Etraius sounded the horn to “fall back” to the statue of the Maiden where the remaining Eclipse and Piastol, her Screamers having died to a man taking down their own number in knights, stood firm in a turtle formation. Unfortunately the Gravesworn were being dragged away from the courtyard by the winds of battle and were lost from sight."

I like very much! You're a very good writer! I very much look forward to the rest!

Yeah he really is a very good writer and storyteller !

Good stuff , but my character's name is mispelled , :roll:

it's Adrasteia Vrykolakas, meaning inescapable ''vampire'' in greek

Tut tut Viral, how can you expect to be a proffesional writer if you cant spell a long and complicated name by memory

Nice name Ziko.

Im really not calling him out for it , haha I just know he wants to type it properly in the final product as writer

Will change the name man. Was going on memory. Sorry about that