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Chapter Four- Whispers Of The Sunless Realm

 


Chapter Four

Arc 1 – Whispers from the Sunless Realm

Location – The Land of the Dreamstalkers

Menlo hath proven themselves: a fierce and worthy land. Artha, a lion itself.
Yet another kingdom lurks its claws beneath
Above the pale red sky, beneath a realm where the sun never touches;
Where dreams are animals, and visions are predators.

In the land of the Dreamstalkers — a kingdom whose creatures of sanity begot dreams of power and might, where true dreams are forged — a certain Dreamstalker walked the grounds. One whose name was Serelith; a demon with the eyes of witches and the instincts of a predator.

Serelith (monologue):
Walk now, for a word shall I give to all that walk’th on our lands.
A rumor hath come to my ears which I wish to be heard.

As he spoke, came forth Mythros, a powerful creature — a Dreamstalker who lost its form in love.

Mythros:
What hast thou to speak?
Can thee not see the creatures order in a form?

Serelith:
Nothing but love I bring to ye!
Lo, a spy hath come forth to my dreams, with a spite of warning.

Mythros:
Warning? What hath thou come to warn us about?

Serelith:
War, I speak, war from a kingdom filled with venomous beings of wrath!
A kingdom named Artha.
A war hath been set against our ally, Menlo of the Elves.

Mythros:
Menlo! An havoc shall reign!
How shall we bear our visions against an army of beings fierce as a wraith?

Serelith:
I say unto you: Artha hath planned not a war unto Dreamstalkers,
But unto Menlo, our ally.
Yet our eyes must stare, and our ears must look.
We shall hide like the wind and walk like a frog!

And so they did: hidden like bats, precise like serpents.
Their kingdom shifted like a bird in motion, and so into the dark of the sunless realm, they disappeared.

Location – The Sanctum of Artha, The Royal Gates, Artha

A legion away from Artha, face to face with the gates,
Stood the army of Elves, standing strong like tigers to prey;
With sticks of knives and sigils drawn from their hands.

Prince Elandriel (call to action):
Menlo! Waste no time! Today we shall end our archenemies!
Kill, not spare! Burn, not wound!

Army of Elves:
Long live Menlo!

Lo, the gates of Artha cried in flames. The sanctum fell to her knees.
Prince Elandriel, a fierce warlord, struck forth the gates of Artha.
And behold — Menlo, the lion’s face, marched forth into the kingdom of Artha, with the blood of victory upon their faces.

But a question triggered through — a shock smiled beneath their feet:
Artha was nothing but scraps of dust and wind.
How was it that a kingdom of brutal beings had left behind naught but dust?

Kaelor Varn (monologue):
My Prince! A bad omen hath been brought upon us.
Artha stays not in their kingdom!

Elf Number 33 (to Prince Elandriel):
My Lord, what shall we do now?
Shall we sleep in the land of our enemies?
Shall we dwell in Artha?
Shall we claim victory over a war without blood?

Prince Elandriel:
Not a witch, we shall not!
Menlo hath come forth to end Artha!
Here shall we wait, for a dog shall return to its master, no matter how far it runs!

And so they sat in the grounds of a deserted land, through which men and women once walked.

Behold; came a gush of wind, a force of sound, a sign of doom.

King Ellion, General Thorne, and Captain Rethos, with tens of thousands of knights armed and ready, encircled the land of Artha — with arrows of fire and steels of death.

At the center walked forth to the fallen gates, General Thorne.

General Thorne:
Surely the enemies hath arrived forth!
Their heads shall we take!
Attack, O Artha — and bring to our Liege the head of Velmira Althorin!

Lo — Artha’s knights charged through the gates like bulls,
While Menlo’s army rested unaware within the walls of Artha.
With great force, they smote through Elves like a bull.
In pain did the Elves wail as the war clamored on.

Prince Elandriel:
We are under attack! Strike back. Do not relent!

A tempest storm of war came through the lands:
Steels clashing against flesh.
The Elves pushed forth spells of malediction against the men of Artha.
The bloodletting war grew fierce —
Elves dying like cocks, knights falling like cockroaches.

In the center fought Prince Elandriel and General Thorne, face to face on the field.

Prince Elandriel:
Thou wight of death!
Today shalt thou die by my blade!

General Thorne:
Thou ethereal being! Canst not thee see?
In Artha shall thy blood be spilled, and thy bones sent to thy queen!

Lo — the dust began to settle. The clamour reduced.
When birds could see, and ants could hear,
Artha had surrounded Menlo with all knights.

And in the center of the ambush stood the remaining one hundred and twelve Elves —
Against an army of seven thousand and three knights.

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