MindzleShort Story - Fall of Helinor
Writing stories of a fanciful nature is something to which I desire, however I am far from a proficient author. This short story is the first of a world I have imagined in my mind from the time I was a small child. It is a mix of fantasy and Sci-Fi. Much like the worlds of Star Wars there is much of the future and much of the ancient past. It is a world in which science and magic are one and the same, maybe science has advanced that far, or maybe science is based on the magic. This short is just flowing from the top of my head, no planning, just typing words as they come. It is an experiment of sorts for me.
“The Fall of Helinor”
The evening is progressing as I expect. The Chorus has voted to disband the Red Guard and the ghosts are coming for me. I am Helinor, son of Galmison, Sage of the Red Guard and Rothank of the Kor clan.
For 242 moons I have been Rothank to the Kor. It is my rank, calling and blood-right. In your tongue I might be called Master or Lord, in others possibly shaman. For my time with the Red Guard we have conquered Mas Velus, sacked the port town of Portalus, defeated enemies beyond count on the field of battle and increased our fortunes in land, gold and slaves.
Every success has increased our wealth, and our conquests have been enormous, only outdone by our apetites. We have become decadent, and slaves to our greed. The phenominal successess of the Red Guard under my leadership has ultimately led to our downfall. And tonight I will pay for this failing.
I can hear the ghosts now. Their howl echos off the stone walls and chills my blood. They come now to finish what the jealous Chorus of Methank began many moons ago.
The Chorus of Methank has long been the central power of the clans. Priests and politicians, they know nothing of war, but from their perch high in the tower of Methank they have long moved the masses to conquest. They preach that through death the followers might know paradise. I know death, I have stared into it’s eyes and there is no paradise there. They incite the populous to war for the horrors of our enemies. The crimes we have suffered at theirs hands and the terrors that they represent. I have come to think, perhaps the chorus are the real enemies.
I have seen the horrors committed from my own hands, believing I had permission and motivation from the gods. The fear in the eyes of our enemies articulated this divine right. The Chorus has lied to us all.
The Red Guard formed in the time of Korinor twelve-thousand moons past, has long been the elite army of the Chorus of Methank. But tonight it will come to an end, or so thinks the Chorus. I have no such illusions.
Tonight my comrades are sneaking through the Methank back-ways to the gates of the tower. I am drawing the ghosts out of town, away from the forthcoming battle. The ghosts believe I go to meet the main body of the army, I have played my part well in this ruse. The ghosts are now close enough now to hear their conversations. They think we are already beaten, and that my capture is eminent. They may very well be correct, but we will not make it painless for them.
For my part in this great fiasco I often wonder if my pride and brilliance might be the end of Methank. Tonight either the ruin of the Chorus or the final End of my Red Guard will come to pass. I failed to realise the danger jealousy of my power, wealth and the new found influence of the Red Guard in Methank represented until too late. But for this moment, at-least, Methank is riot with activity, and joy. The city celebrates another conquest and the riches that have come home. The city is oblivious to the mechanization’s in play this evening that will effect them all in one form or another.
Passing through the gates onto the plains of Gald I am finally accosted by my pursuers. Rolak head of the Ghosts, smirking; “Helinor, your corruption and greed has caught up to you at last.”
“Rolak, have you come to do your masters dirty work like the good little lap dog? I’m surprised you have the courage to face me directly, though not shocked in your joy.”
Rolak has long been my adversary. Ever since our days in arena. Always the Masters pet, never questioning orders, nor breaking from tradition. It was to the surprise of many that I was made Rothank of the shock troop Red Guard and he was given the Ghosts, little more than palace guards. I always thought it was fitting, he would never last long during a campaign, and doesn’t have the ability to improvise on the battle field. He has always maintained that I somehow cheated him of his rightful place. But we both know it was skill in combat and in the arena that won me the position.
It is why one hand while reaching for my arm his other rests on the hilt of his axe. He knows I can beat him in single combat, even while surrounded by his ghosts he must be questioning whether I can kill him before they finish me.
Maybe they don’t think I will come quietly after all. It is now that I notice all of the Ghosts are here to capture me… Three hundred, armed to the teeth. Good, everything according to plan.
“The Fall of Helinor”
The evening is progressing as I expect. The Chorus has voted to disband the Red Guard and the ghosts are coming for me. I am Helinor, son of Galmison, Sage of the Red Guard and Rothank of the Kor clan.
For 242 moons I have been Rothank to the Kor. It is my rank, calling and blood-right. In your tongue I might be called Master or Lord, in others possibly shaman. For my time with the Red Guard we have conquered Mas Velus, sacked the port town of Portalus, defeated enemies beyond count on the field of battle and increased our fortunes in land, gold and slaves.
Every success has increased our wealth, and our conquests have been enormous, only outdone by our apetites. We have become decadent, and slaves to our greed. The phenominal successess of the Red Guard under my leadership has ultimately led to our downfall. And tonight I will pay for this failing.
I can hear the ghosts now. Their howl echos off the stone walls and chills my blood. They come now to finish what the jealous Chorus of Methank began many moons ago.
The Chorus of Methank has long been the central power of the clans. Priests and politicians, they know nothing of war, but from their perch high in the tower of Methank they have long moved the masses to conquest. They preach that through death the followers might know paradise. I know death, I have stared into it’s eyes and there is no paradise there. They incite the populous to war for the horrors of our enemies. The crimes we have suffered at theirs hands and the terrors that they represent. I have come to think, perhaps the chorus are the real enemies.
I have seen the horrors committed from my own hands, believing I had permission and motivation from the gods. The fear in the eyes of our enemies articulated this divine right. The Chorus has lied to us all.
The Red Guard formed in the time of Korinor twelve-thousand moons past, has long been the elite army of the Chorus of Methank. But tonight it will come to an end, or so thinks the Chorus. I have no such illusions.
Tonight my comrades are sneaking through the Methank back-ways to the gates of the tower. I am drawing the ghosts out of town, away from the forthcoming battle. The ghosts believe I go to meet the main body of the army, I have played my part well in this ruse. The ghosts are now close enough now to hear their conversations. They think we are already beaten, and that my capture is eminent. They may very well be correct, but we will not make it painless for them.
For my part in this great fiasco I often wonder if my pride and brilliance might be the end of Methank. Tonight either the ruin of the Chorus or the final End of my Red Guard will come to pass. I failed to realise the danger jealousy of my power, wealth and the new found influence of the Red Guard in Methank represented until too late. But for this moment, at-least, Methank is riot with activity, and joy. The city celebrates another conquest and the riches that have come home. The city is oblivious to the mechanization’s in play this evening that will effect them all in one form or another.
Passing through the gates onto the plains of Gald I am finally accosted by my pursuers. Rolak head of the Ghosts, smirking; “Helinor, your corruption and greed has caught up to you at last.”
“Rolak, have you come to do your masters dirty work like the good little lap dog? I’m surprised you have the courage to face me directly, though not shocked in your joy.”
Rolak has long been my adversary. Ever since our days in arena. Always the Masters pet, never questioning orders, nor breaking from tradition. It was to the surprise of many that I was made Rothank of the shock troop Red Guard and he was given the Ghosts, little more than palace guards. I always thought it was fitting, he would never last long during a campaign, and doesn’t have the ability to improvise on the battle field. He has always maintained that I somehow cheated him of his rightful place. But we both know it was skill in combat and in the arena that won me the position.
It is why one hand while reaching for my arm his other rests on the hilt of his axe. He knows I can beat him in single combat, even while surrounded by his ghosts he must be questioning whether I can kill him before they finish me.
Maybe they don’t think I will come quietly after all. It is now that I notice all of the Ghosts are here to capture me… Three hundred, armed to the teeth. Good, everything according to plan.
