The Ebony Sky (Original) [PG-17 for violence, and suggestive conduct.]

[Shiney]

My original idea. I've combined several of my favorite author's styles in creating this, as well as adding my own flare of impressionism and altering points of view. So, it might be a little confusing.

To my dearest friends, be you the ones that helped me back to the course when I fell, or the ones that betrayed me, if only to make me stronger.

To Rachel, for everything you've put me through, and everything that you've opened my eyes to. I was blind, and now I stand in wonder. I would have been a monster.

To Nateal, for your ever wise counsel, and all the compassion I've ever deserved, and more. I was hopeless, and now I persevere. I would have been a fool.

Prologue: Being a recounting of the events that lead to the sixth age of the Terran Empire
-From Imperial Terran Histories, 44th Edition.


In the dawning days of humanity, the best historians of our world have only vague ideas of what life was like. Back when Magicka was a raw power, conscious in its own form, and humans were little more than scattered clans across the vast Continent of Almassa. It took Eons, but eventually, the peoples of humankind settled in various regions of this provident land, and became diverse in cultures, appearance, and even physiology.

Slowly, hardier, robust people moved into the northern mountains, scraping out a quiet life, free of warfare with the other barbarous humans, as they had nothing worth chasing after them into those arid ranges for. But over time, as peace prevailed, so did knowledge. And over time, their talent at harnessing, at channeling magic became prevalent, and they found themselves warped by the magic they made, and became a fair, light people, adorned with wings with which they could touch the sky. Though, in their power, they grew overly proud, and chose not to use their wings for more than show as oft as not. They are the Angels, the Winged People of Terrodal.

A great number of people wandered southward, into the vast deserts of the southern half of the continent, and whether through some magic similar to the Angels, or through some foul indecency is unknown, but they took on feline features, becoming influenced heavily by our two moons, bound only by loose culture and trade, spread out sparsely across the vast wastes of the south, the Ohmes have had no official government to date, so far as any Imperial Citizen has been able to gather.

And a relatively small parcel of land, situated near the eastern edge of the Southern Wastes, are the Land of the Dragonfolk. While it is suspected that they are the result of some branch of the Ohmes, their borders are strictly closed, allowing us little to no information on this strangely titled race of ordinary seeming people.

And as the people diversified in the regions, it allowed the loose clans of horsemen, and farmers to slowly unite in various townships, which in turn unified into a feudal system, and eventually, reached the level of our glorious empire. And so it was that humankind was left to peace, with only the most minor of disputes over territory and trade. It was then, however, that human mages made their folly. In an attempt to dominate the power of weather after a number of hard years resulting in a famine, they provoked many of the spirits guiding nature itself. What broke out was a war unlike any other. Where weather, plants, animals, and everything but man himself seemed to be seeking the extermination of their race.

But through a stroke of luck, an ancient ritual of magick was found, that could safely bind spirits of nature, even sovereign ones within the flesh of a human, to be bound and powerless, to perish along with the man at the end of his days, barring his meeting a premature death at the hands of man. And it was such that the tide of battle turned, and nature turned into yet another system, though an unalterable one as the life, the guidance was purged from it.

In the months after the war, seeking to find some way to aid the empire in regaining its former glory, a number of knights sought answers outside their realm, hiring a wizard to transport them to various planes in search of enlightenment for the sake of the Empire. And they succeeded. They returned to this plane, empowered with mighty secrets of magic from a plane above ours. Endowed with fortified minds, bodies, and souls, they were nigh immortal. They sought to spread their power to all in the empire, quickly convincing the king of their wisdom, and giving rise to hundreds upon hundreds of the 'Knights of the Ebony Sky.'

However, not all was well. A different knight, from a dying and disgraced order, corrupted by the nature spirit which he held imprisoned from his youth was embittered with the other knight's success. In a burst of vengeance, this misguided Knight sought to destroy the empire from within by purging it of the knights. And so, he sought the aid of a band of villains who would in turn sway the ears of the other peoples of our vast homeland against us, allowing them more than enough opportunity to put a devious plan into action that would threaten every noble hearted man and woman within the Empire.

 

[Shiney]

Chapter One

An introduction of a Chivalrous Villain

Dami Rose sighed as he plodded through the thick wood in the northern reaches of the empire. Up here, the forests were nearly endless and more than a little dangerous for trappers, which he had just proven himself. The peddler had gotten off of his horse, expecting to barter one of his so called "flawless" timepieces. And Dami had taken his mace to poor merchants' skull, emptied his packs, and taken the horse. The Bay actually seemed quite calm, and he patted its neck idly. He wore nothing on his head, allowing a knotted scruff of dark brown, nearly lack hair to cling to his head, reaching down in shaggy bunches down the sides of his face, and into an equally scruffy beard. His hazel eyes were mostly brown, but seemed somehow layered with a thin coating of icy grey just underneath the surface of the iris. He had a fairly tall frame, not exceptionally so, but his intimidating image was furthered by his broad stature, and hodge-podge collection of armor. Over his chest, he wore a full scale mail breast piece, causing any major movements to result in an intimidating hiss of steel. On his shoulders, he wore two full plate pauldrons, giving him an even broader appearance, as well as protecting his shoulders from most attacks. Over his arms, he wore simply leather braces, stealthily ribbed with steel to stop a blade, and plain leather gauntlets, studded at the knuckles, and along the backs of his hands. Below the scale mail, Dami wore a full skirt of chain mail over hide breeches, in order to give the greatest protection without hindering mobility. And on his feet were a pair of mismatched boots, both made of brown leather. He was by no means a tracker, but he could certainly notice the sounds of someone dashing with all possible speed through the brush off of the path. Dami had a mission, but being a young man of his mid twenties, Dami was still curious enough to investigate anything that could possibly be a disturbance. He quickly got off the horse, not really caring if it went off on its own or not. It had been an unexpected bonus to begin with.


Akima Rey dashed through the growth, not caring about the branches and thorns that tore at her black and lavender priestess robes, nor the pebbles lodging in her sandals, cutting into her feet. Her pursuers were skilled trackers hired by the knights, and she needed time to prepare her powers if she was to survive. And that meant getting ahead of them. Unfortunately, as she turned her gaze as she ran, sharp blue eyes piercing through her mane of fiery red hair that went down to her upper back, she saw that they were already upon her, and catching up quickly. Being raised as a priestess of Dabãlnem, she had never needed any skills beyond basic aerobics, and sandals were never good tracking wear. As her feet caught in one of the roots she failed to notice with her head turned, she tumbled to the ground. And then the group was upon her. Four men, each wearing light leather tunics and stockings over expertly crafted moccasins. Three of them had unsheathed short blades, and one carried a short bow with an arrow knocked, following the tracks they had trained since boyhood to be able to read. They moved forward, not anticipating the wrath of gods that was about to descend on them. Akima knelt low in the grass, hoping against hope that something might happen, something to distract them, so that she could begin using her powers without being noticed. And her prayers were, for once, answered.


From nowhere, the horrible figure stepped out from behind a tree which was simply too narrow to have hid him. Jack shouted out to the others, immediately raising his bow. The fiend was shaggy, and looked bedraggled. But he was big, very big. Almost like the drawing of the extinct dwarves, but he was far too large, larger than any of them, in fact. And he stepped forward, drawing a wicked looking blade that was very deep, and curved the wrong way. Jack raised his bow, and fired, but his hands weren't quite as steady as they should have been. There had been no tracks, no sound, even the wildlife didn't seem to react to this threat, almost as if the ambience didn't care about his presence. And so his shot was slightly off course, lodging itself in the upper left area of the fiend's chest. He flinched visibly, but continued his brisk pace directly towards them. By now the others had turned, and were trying to spread out. But they simply didn't have the time before he was on them. As the lead took a swipe at the fiend with his blade, the thing jumped backwards, assuming a pose that gripped the small hilt of the blade with one hand, and bracing his arm with his free hand on his weapon wrist, before jumping forwards again, ramming the blade through his chest. He immediately turned, yanking the blade free with one hand, and sent it in a wide arc even as the second companion thrust a stab at his weapon arm, but instead of going under the pauldron, it simply glanced away from the armor, following the contours of the scale mail. However, the arcing blade struck true, lodging itself in the poor man's neck. Maybe it caught on his spine, or maybe the fiend got bored, but he let the blade drop with the fresh corpse, and drew a small, one handed mace from his belt. The weapon was a simply built stick, with a large ball of solid metal on the end, covered in large studs, rather than spikes. As the last of Jack's companions moved in, the fiend swung the mace expertly in his hand, striking the oncoming blow. The man's hand was shattered by the impact, and his blade fell as he screamed. But before he could draw his knife with his offhand, the mace continued its spiral, crushing his skull. Jack by now had another arrow knocked, and this time had a steady aim at the fiend's head as he turned to stare at the weapon primed to kill him. He never saw the streams of hellfire that engulfed him, incinerating him in the passing of a moment.

Dami shrugged his shoulders, relaxing the knot of tension that had built up as he saw the second arrow. "Useful, aren't you?" He asked, sliding the haft of his mace into one of the loops on his belt. He then walked over to the corpse with his blade lodged into it, and placing one foot on its chest, began to tug the blade loose. He barely move in time as the stream of hellfire came his way. "Damn it woman, are you crazy? I just saved you!" he yelled, turning to glower at the Prietess. "Dabãl-neimen, come to your senses!" He shouted then as she raised her hands for another attack, using the archaic form of address. She blinked then, and seemed to sag very slightly, as though she had just recovered from a great weariness. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were after the bounty too." She said, shrugging as though attempted murder were the regular course of things.