Chapter One – The Moon turns Crimson
Arc One – The Moon Turns Crimson
Location Setting: The Kingdom of Artha
Above the pregnant skies; deep into the cracked atmosphere. The moon, a colorful bane, a sting in the eyes of death. A new moon arises—one so baneful, one so dark, and its rays too powerful. An omen has risen; a war beckons—a steel for a steel; blade for blade.
Below its gaze stood Artha, a kingdom of kings and slaves, an embodiment of high class and Elliots. A realm where flowers spring war and earth cries peace.
Its breath stood still, its shackles murmured silently, and a freedom lost behind the shallow walls of Artha. Ruled King Ellion Vareth and his wife, Queen Melara. A mighty king; one with the heart of a lion, mind of a beast, and skills of a tiger.
Lyre, the voice of the gods, the seer of wisdom. A seer too wise to see; too brilliant to walk. Myths say he gifted his eyes to the gods in exchange for knowledge.
Lyre (arriving at the King's chambers):
Hear me! Hear me, O King,
A war beckons.
Knights of honor, prepare.
Men of valor, thy time has come!
Hear me, O King.
King Ellion:
Wise seer! Demon of the future,
Why hast thou awakened from the grave of mist and knowledge?
Why hast thou decided to show forth to Artha tidings of bane and destruction?
Lyre:
But my sire… it is not my own wish or choice,
It is not my desire to bring forth the will of Odin to Artha,
But a will I must bring, for the gods hast spoken.
Our minds must hear.
A malediction hath brought its rageful claws to our lands, and like the lion never sleeps,
Our eyes must shine forth.
Our steels must dance.
Our clamor for war must be heard!
King Ellion:
War! Why hast the gods chosen war?
Lyre:
An omen, sire!
An omen has awoken. The ashes of death draw closer to thy kingdom;
Our enemies shalt conquer, if we dost not make a quick move.
King Ellion:
Menlo! The kingdom of Elves! Is this the wilt of the gods?
Shalt we attack their rotten kingdom?
Shalt we bring dust of death and ruins to their abode?
We wilt bring Menlo to its knees, and the blood of a new beginning shalt flow into our streams and rivers!
And to the ground they went—men by men; knight by knight. They went into the dark; they went into the light. A war they never wished came; a fell of malediction, a rune of death.
Thorne, Artha's general, arrived at the palace with his left hand on his sheath.
Thorne (monologue):
Sure! I hast arrived.
My men shalt now be thy men.
Lead us to the trees of Menlo and to the ashes of grave.
Give to us a wyrd of blood. I am thine to command!
King Ellion:
My noble servant! Thy words hast touched my heart and my soul;
Thy wisdom is too bright to dim.
And if thou hast want so,
War and my men I shalt give him.
(With a quick stare, he tarried his words and shifted his face to the eyes of Melara.)
King Ellion:
My love, hast the smite won?
Hast Menlo embraced their wyrd?
Shalt my men bring to you fingers and heads of the treacherous elves
And the wretched faces of Menlo?
Queen Melara:
My Lord, the man whose face is like a lion,
Thou hast said enough. The moon has spoken to us—crimson hast arisen.
Let the blood of Menlo be spilled to the fairest kingdoms of Artha.
Thorne:
My king hast spoken, and I shalt adhere.
I shalt bring to you the heart of Menlo.
And to my queen, the blood of Velmira Althorin.
Wish my men blessings from Odin!
(He turns to his back and walks to the depth of the shadows.)
King Ellion:
As the moon ages, thy wisdom shalt grow.
Like the sun brightens the sky, thee also brighten my soul.
To dust shalt Menlo fall, and to love shalt we rise.
The dust settled. The kingdom stood forth in the will of Odin. Beneath the kingdom, a silent noise from the households of Artha. The market side a sanctum of food from the gods.
Ezari, a young warlock; a man with the soul of a dove, arms of a bill. Myths proclaim he, Ezari, sought the power of Earyn’s Veil, and he too cast his lots in shame—and since, a name of mockery hath he borne. He flocked through the damned streets of Artha like a sheep with no shepherd.
Ezari (aside):
Hear my words, O lustful Artha!
Thy king seeks a chicken's war.
As the coward I proclaimed he is,
To doom shalt he take us.
To our end wilt he give us.
Woe to Ellion, a pig of a man. He art not worthy of my spit!
But his words took him not anywhere but on a path of shame and disgrace. The savage lunatic, the villagers hath thought of him.
Villager 1:
And why shouldst we listen to thee?
A lunatic of his own mind.
A man who puts on the garment of shame like a good piece of clothing!
A fool of his choice, and thee dares open his mouth and barks woes of Ellion like a wounded dog?
Thee hast failed of his wyrd!
Hear nothing, villagers. Listen not to the wails of a mindless peasant.
Villager 2:
Hear the failed fool! A war lurks about Artha, and thou choosest the path of a child.
Thee opens his crooked filth of a mouth and speaketh evil of Ellion?
To hell shalt a coward perish!
To hell wilt a fool suffer!
So left the villagers, and alone to his mindless thoughts they left him. A war cracks like thunder in a rainstorm. Menlo, the adversary, paces the lands like a hungry wolf—and yet, yet a fool raises his voice for the village to hear.
The moon bore even more evil; circles of doom grew close. Artha, the kingdom beneath, became fierce. The war, a prophecy born centuries ago, had been fulfilled.
The fell night drew close. Knights bowed to their knees like statues on greenlands. There came a determined mind. Through the men, a coward hard to find. Captain Rethos, head of the Royal Guards, came forth with his axe of strength and shield of wrath. To the gates, he marched through with thousands of knights fearless as dogs.
Captain Rethos:
O noble men of Artha, men of valor!
Tonight our destiny calls!
Our moon has brought a war to clamor
A song we shall sing when Menlo falls.
And I say to ye, sons of Artha!
Fear not death, for death is a friend to Artha!
Fear not any steel, for brave men shall die by steel!
With great valor and pure strength, they marched, from the thick gates of Artha to the forest of Menlo.
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