The Golden Saphire Prolouge

This is not a finished product, and is still in the making… pardon me if it takes a while for more to be added, but I am still in High School, and at the moment, my school takes priority… according to my Mom… lol





Prologue

The Golden Sapphire





         “Well, we can’t possibly believe that the ‘accident’ at Nirhigh won’t happen again at Tristram!” Shouted Ronald the Cutter, Second Lord of the Dwarves, as he jumped out of his seat, a heavy, solid gold throne, with sapphires placed at regular intervals. He’d made it himself. The sudden jump caused the heavy seat to fall over backwards, landing on one of his servant’s big toe, causing an angry outburst of curses and profanity from the dwarf, as he hopped to and fro, favoring his angry toe. Ronald didn’t even look back at him until he muttered something about quitting.

“What?” Ronald yelled, spinning around, and staring straight into the quivering dwarf’s eyes. “You ungrateful sniveling little useless waste of air!” The dwarf’s eyes filled with terror!

         “I, uh, I’m s-so s-s-sorry, you highness, your majesty, your mercifulness!” The dwarf cried, throwing himself to the floor, as he started kissing Ronald’s feet.

         Ronald simply drew his great war axe, Revlean, and decapitated the poor dwarf in a single stroke, displaying a wonderful display of strength, speed, and skill to those present. He was a prime example of the Dwarves lust for violence. They like it almost as much as their drinking.

         There were all five of the Dwarf Kings present, including High King Erin, as well as two of the Elves ambassadors and High Elf Falin, and Queen Raven. As for the Humans, they had two governors and their King, Aragón, but only as spectral images produced by their Spellcasters, or Magicians. There were also a number of other beings of importance, both present, and spectral.

As some of his other servants carried away their dead friend, Ronald looked around the heavy, round oak table, staring into the faces of the others assembled.

         They all looked back, noncommittal, as he slowly sat back down on his throne, now back in place thanks to the assembly of servants surrounding him.

         He tucked Revlean back into its jeweled belt, as he muttered quietly about being unfair, but none else heard. Revlean is an elvish axe that literally means ‘Bane of Darkness’.

         “Are you done?”  Erin, the First Dwarf King asked, calmly. His son however was less tactful.

         “You are such a whiner. I don’t see why you should be a king.” Orrin said, as he huffed loudly.

         A burst of anger welled up inside of Ronald, and he roared in outrage, once more drawing Revlean and, flourishing it in a grand movement that put all around him in mortal danger, pointed at Orrin, and declared; “You will pay for your insolence! I, Ronald, the Cutter, Second Lord of all Dwarves, swears am oath upon great Thrognar himself. He who made the great mountain ‘Uthbear’ and he who brought forth the Great Sea to this great land and made it flourish! I swear upon all gods, known and un-known, that you, Orrin Erinsson shall pay for what you have said and done, past, present, and the shadowy future! You shall pay!”  He finished, his face an angry shade of crimson, his jowls still jiggling from the tirade, as a glob of spittle flew forth from his mouth and spurted an impressive distance of almost four feet, only to land just at the edge of the other side of the table where King Erin sat.

‘He certainty is a long-winded fellow!’ Thought Kinson Fourth of the Five Dwarven kings, and ruler of Trisdrad, a Dwarven mining city just south of Tristram, and in danger as well.

‘You will leave now my son.” Erin told Orrin quickly, and motioning for his guards to take his son back to his quarters, where he would be safe from Ronald, and his over-eager axe.

         “What you propose,” High elf Falin interjects, “Is that we just go and grab some swords and attack the Goblin Horde Renegade, and just expect that all seven or eight hundred thousand of them aren’t going to be giving us the fight of our lives? I seriously doubt that we could stop the whole Horde in a couple of months, let alone a couple of weeks.” He paused a moment looking around the table for feed-back.

         “Go on.” King Erin said with a nod of his head.

“If we had a year, we might be able to slow them down enough to get reinforcements to Tristram, and save the city, but as it is, I don’t think we have the time.

         “The Sand Humans Army is already busy with there own problems, they are under siege by more than three hundred thousand goblins themselves you know, from the Hordes, the Hanging Heads, the Sand Eaters, and the Finger Snappers! As for the Mountain Humans, they aren’t under siege, but it will take them at least six months to get the main bulk of their armies down into the passes, and another four to finally get to Tristram. And besides that, it would leave them undefended for that whole time! I believe only Queen Raven herself can speak for the Elves, but from what I understand, we too are too busy to have to worry about someone else’s battles! Erin?” Falin finishes, catching his breath.

         “Well, that was quite a speech!” Erin says, chuckling nervously. “Look, I know that the other three kingdoms are too busy to help you with their armies, but,” Erin said, raising his hand to stop Ronald from interjecting. “I will supply you with ten thousand pounds of gold, and five thousand of my Light Calvary to aid you as quickly as possible. Also, after I reassess my situation here at home, I believe it won’t be a problem to supply you with a squad of my Assassins, and two Legions of axmen.”

         Ronald nodded his head gratefully, satisfied. Almost. “And what of the elves?” He asked Queen Raven, silently praying that she could aid him.

         She sighed quietly, and replied, “I will give you a hundred of my spell casters, and three hundred pounds of gold. Does this satisfy you?”

         “Yes, of course my lady, thank you.” Ronald lied. It wasn’t that it wasn’t a good deal, Elvin spell casters were the most powerful in all of -------, he was just hoping for more, though he knew better than to argue.

         King Erin nodded, satisfied.

         “But what of the impending issue of the Goblins marching down to the city…” Orrin asks, poking his head back in to the room, much to his fathers displeasure.

         His dad gives him a look, but Orrin doesn’t falter. He looked away from his father’s steely gaze and looked on toward King Ronald.

         “I own much less troops than my father, but my troops are ready and willing to assist you, King Ronald.” He said much to everyone’s surprise.

         Ronald just studied him a moment, then, “And how many do you have under your banner?” Ronald asked.

         “More than four thousand.” Orrin replied. “And the Call.” Orrin replies with authority.

         A few surprised mutterings met this announcement, and Erin groaned quietly. He and his son had had long conversations about this, and still, his son, in his rush to glory, blurted it out. And at the worst possible time too.

         Ronald gazed at him keenly. “Show me.” He said.

         Before his father could stop him, Orin produced a small, Golden Sapphire from within his robes, and brandished it with reckless disregard. A sudden urge to take it from him took everyone in the room, thanks to some age-old enchantments put on it by some dark sorcerer, and most of the nobles in the room had to avert their gaze, in order to not leap across the table, and take the priceless gem from Orrin’s lifeless fingers. A few of the guards couldn’t help themselves, and three of them leapt at Orrin, their swords gleaming in the dim candle light, only to be shot by every archer in the room. They finally halted their mad dash at the Dwarven Prince, where they fell to the floor, no longer looking like Dwarves, but pincushions.

         Orrin appeared genuinely surprised at the reaction that the gem had on other beings, and stomped on a rat that was rushing toward him, under the spell of deep wanting, that the gem produced.

         Orrin shook his head in disbelief, glad that his guards had reacted so quickly, or that the guards closest to him hadn’t been taken by the hunger, for if they had, he most surely would have died.

         He shivered.

         “Well, well, well.” Ronald said, as he shook his head. “That will definitely become useful. Summon them immediately!” He announced.

         Orrin rushed to obey, but his father shouted his objection.

“No!” Erin shouted, his voice booming around the hall from one end to the other, ringing in his sons ears, even as the words of summoning were upon his lips. “We mustn’t summon the Jumpers unless we are truly in mortal peril! We only have three summons left! And what of future generations? We must not summon them unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Erin said with finality.

         But Ronald wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot. “And what,” He asked “Do you suppose could be considered important enough? Hmm?” He looked around at those present before continuing; “When the damned Goblins, and Orks, are at your door? Hmm? And that’s not to mention the other beast that are rejected from hell itself that they harness for their own uses!” He paused for affect. “Because all of them and more of those hell-spawned rejected fiends are at my front door, and I’m not happy about it!”

         Erin knew that if he continued to shoot Ronald down, then he would lose the support of the ‘Rokeaters’, and the ‘Goldtoofs’, (Eric’s clans) and he couldn’t afford to have a clan war start up now, while ------- minions are on the move, and he knew also that while Ronald was a needy ally, he was a deadly enemy.

         “I shall not be completely immobile in this situation my friend, and, if they take Tristram, I will of course allow my son to take charge of the Golden Sapphire-“ at the mention of the name, another of the guards lost it, and charged at Orrin, only to share his fellows fate.

“And you may have the one that comes to me to aid you in the battles that follow, though I assure you, I will be the sole master of the man who comes.”

Ronald was about to retort, and argue the finer points of this agreement when, as if on cue, a messenger ran into the room, unannounced.

He stumbled slightly, and, covered in blood and dirt, saluted in front of Erin, where he stood, panting.

Erin quickly saluted back, and asked of the messenger;

“What brings you? You where the uniform of a Goldtoof, yet here you are, out here in the mountains of Uthbear! Pray tell, why have you come here?”

         The runner remained as he was for a few more breaths, and finally; “I’m sorry my lord, I got here as soon as I cou-“ his words broke of as he turned to the side and puked. “Forgive me my lord, I-“

         “Not your fault, just continue. I admire your loyalty to run all the way from… wherever.” 

         “Tristram, my lord. I come from Tristram!” A knot formed in Erin’s stomach as he realized that he might have to make good on his promise sooner than he had anticipated.

         “Well? Get to it!” snapped Ronald from the other side of the table, obviously upset that he was being left out of the conversation.

         “Tristram is lost sir. As of thirteen hours ago, I was alerted on my way to the battle with a message for young William Shackles, Who by the way sir I regret to inform you has died in the fighting, though I heard that he died after slaying over two hundred of the foul beasts himself before finally falling to the famed blade ‘Painful’ wielded cy Captain Bullshark of the Goblin Horde Renegade,” Erin groaned at the mention of Williams death. He was his favorite human, and like a segregate son to him. ‘So many have fallen to the Hordes!’ he thought in sadness.

         “But my news is not this, for I regret to inform you, sirs and madams that Tristram has fallen to the Hordes, Renegade, Hanging Heads, Bone Whittlers, and the Ork Tribal party the Rotsuckers, to name but a few of the many Tribes and Hordes that finally took the great city-fortress! Also, the wretches were aided by more than two thousand ‘Fallen’ from no more than four Fallen Broods! Also a number of Fire drakes were in the area, though they are all dead now. They fought bravely, and without mercy, and we slew many of the monsters, but finally, the chaos’s numbers proved too great for the many of Tristram. Over three hundred thousand of the beasts were taken, as well as close to a hundred of the Fallen- six of which can be credited to William- and seven Fire Drakes are among the dead of the enemy, while we lost a mere two thousand four hundred footmen, four hundred cavalry, two hundred mages, and twenty-two siege engines! Governor Shia himself survived, along with over a thousand other men, and they are on their way here!”

         Erin let out the sigh that that he had been struggling to hold in throughout the speech, and said, “I will keep true to my word. Orrin, if you still wish to aid King Ronald in his quest to purge the world of the damned, then you have my blessing if you wish to take it.”

         Ronald’s face lit-up at the mention of the Golden Sapphire again, and he relished in the though of leading a counter strike, a Jumper by his side, as he fought though the enemy’s ranks, and re-took his city that he holds so dear.

         “I do.” Orrin replied his voice even as ever, with a quick glance over to Ronald to assure himself that this is what he should do. He figured this got his head off the chopping block in Ronald’s eyes at least, though it put his head dangerously close to his father’s chopping block.

         The look in Ronald’s eyes was enough assurance for Orrin, though he glanced over at his father.

         “As you know Orrin, Erinsson, you have my blessing. Do as you believe is right.” His father said with a small smile.

         Orrin nodded his head and set to work reviewing all the words in the Elvin Language that he must recite to wake the sapphire and summon the Jumpers.

         “Ah yes….” He murmured to himself, and begun; “Sliter ala sen vountien es stagrante vrugranta stallos stayor…”





And So It Begins…