18+ Tales From the Kingdom of Evondale

"Why do we try so hard, and sacrifice so much, only for the Purging Darkness to relentlessly test our mettle?", thought Prince Leilianus Telessecater, as he rode through the Moors of Uuldar, at the head of the small company of heavily armed and armored Hostmen of Evondale. The Prince also rode alongside his father, the High King Amahil Telessecater. Riding slightly behind his father was the the Lord of the Land Host, King Amahil's brother and Prince Leilianus' uncle, Lord Kelvar Telessecater.

Although they were riding through what was considered to be under the control of the Empire of Evon, the Moors were still on the Western frontier of the Empire. This meant that, although it was hospitable land and had several Hostmen Garrisons along its span, the Moors of Uuldar were still teeming with danger along the more rural roads. However, it had been fairly silent in this area for the last decade, so although the company knew what to expect, they were confident in their training and natural talent, among their unique individual...abilities.

Looking over at his father, and receiving a friendly and confident nod in return, Prince Leilianus focused back on the road with renewed pride. That nod was a silent praise from his High King father, praise for his achievement and assistance with their most recent diplomatic mission, which was an agreement brokered with the nearby, northern barbarian tribes. The Prince had bartered, and eventually dueled, with the Chieftan of each tribe. With his magical, indeed seemingly divine blade Sindar, he handily defeated each Chieftan, but had spared their lives. This had won Evondale the respect of the Tribes, and so each Chieftan and each of his descendants pledged that they would serve Evondale in their time of need, and Evondale would assist them in return, a mutual pledge of aid and warriors.

Indeed, Prince Leilianus had befriended the champion son of the Chieftan of the Wolf Tribe, and that man, Telvak by name, had accompanied the Prince and his retinue with twenty-five of his best warriors, intending to see the magnificence of Evondale. Prince Leilianus drifted off into a daydream about returning to the capital city, taking his mind for just a few minutes off of the potential dangers of the road. It was in that moment, that one of those dangers found its way to the Royal Retinue.


In one simultaneous motion, about two dozen black arrows whizzed in from the surrounding brush and swamp debris. Most of the arrows clanged harmlessly against the perfect armor of the elite Hostmen, but some found their mark in the lightly armored barbarians accompanying them. Prince Leilianus grimaced at the quartet of groans and death throes. Drawing their blades as one, The High King, the Prince, and Lord Kelvar and the deadly Hostmen formed a star formation, with the three men on horses in the middle, the barbarians comprising the inner circle, and the elite warriors of Evondale in their star pattern around the royal family. In this manner, the barbarians acted as a support, while the Hostmen carved their way into the now-attacking humans and Vendel warriors. The Vendel were a race of goblinoid, warlike creatures, who had the body of a broad orc, but covered in dark fur. The evil creatures had the teeth of a canine, and arms as thick as branches. The humans on the other hand, wore armor from the Eastern kingdom of Otaru.


Briefly, the thought that Otaru had no reason to attempt any sort of attack upon Evondale flew through Prince Leilianus' mind as he drew Sindar, and cut into his first enemy with a downward-diagonal strike that took a vendal warchief at the shoulder. The mithril and diamond-edged magical blade easily severed the vendal's whole arm at the shoulder. A short, surprised yell of pain was all that was allowed of the vendal, before its legs gave out from under it, and the creature passed into the Void.

High King Amahil cried out to his men, "Warriors, we must make haste to clear the forest! Keep in formation, shields up, and advance!"

In this manner, the master warriors kept up a steady advance to the edge of the Moor's forest, just half of a mile from their current position. The Hostmen cut down the constant ambushes of vendals and Otaruans slamming into their ranks with brutal precision as they marched forward. It was near midnight when the group finally neared the edge of the Moors, Prince Leilianus was about to issue forth a jubilant cry at their victory, when all of a sudden, a bright red light blasted into their ranks, blinding the Prince and throwing him from his horse. The force of the blast severely rattled the Prince's mind, cutting into his very thoughts, so that for a long moment all that Leilianus could see were the stars of the night's sky.

When the Third Prince of Evondale finally regained his senses, and had the capability to regain his battle stance, what he beheld was a sight of the utmost horror. The enemies were gone, but what remained in their wake was much worse than any attack they had suffered that night. Where the firm, strong ranks of Hostmen had once been, there were only mangled and bloodies corpses. Shell-shocked, the normally stoic Champion-Prince could only shuffle around the once living, thriving men and women that were his comrades-in-arms, desperately looking for his father in the chaos.

"..F-father? Are you - ugh! - are you there? Un..uncle Kelvar? Anyone!" cried out Prince Leilianus, though he cried out in vain.

For as he craned his neck, the Prince's young eyes locked onto the saddening sight of the High King's smoldering, lifeless body. Prince Leilianus Telessecater, for the first time in his two-hundred and seventy years, felt his knees give out before him as he fell and openly wept over his father. So terrible was his grief that he didn't hear the approach of another, nor did the Prince at first register the fact that someone had grasped his pauldron-ed shoulder. Still weeping, Leilianus looked upwards and saw that one of his greatest friends, the Ranger-Captain Avalain the Seeker, had indeed survived the slaughter.

"My heart goes out for your loss, and for the loss of the Kingdom," Avalain gently spoke. "High King Amahil was indeed a great man, and all the lands of the realm shall weep as you do of his loss."

Gathering himself, Prince Leilianus breathed deeply, and pulled himself up to his feet, with unspoken assistance from his friend. "I...I thank you for your kind words, truest friend. Indeed, all will miss him. He was a father to not just I, but the whole of Evondale," spoke the Prince in ragged breaths.

"Indeed, my Prince. We must make haste for the Ivory City, and we must take your father with us. We cannot abide leaving him to the carrion beasts that roam these moors," advised Avalain the Seeker.

"You speak true words, and I am glad to have you with me upon this journey. But...one thing I cannot figure out, is why I have not seen my uncle among the dead. Did you happen to see if he was struck down or carried off, even?" questioned the suddenly suspicious Prince.

Narrowing his thin, black eyebrows and tightening his rugged jaw, the Ranger matched his Prince's suspicious gaze with one of his own. "Nay...nay, indeed I did not see what happened to Lord Kelvar at all after the blast. I would deign to accuse one of his standing of betrayal, but..."

"You need not hold your tongue, my friend, for I have similar inklings. In my heart I would pray that my uncle would not sell out his own flesh and blood, but..."

"But we shall see upon our return to Evon. For if Lord Kelvar truly believes that he and whatever dark forces he has aligned himself with have completed the slaughter of the High King and his only son, then woe to him when we surprise him upon our return!" finished Avalain.

Reserved for future Part

Reserved