Monk
06-30-2004, 18:48
a little something i decided to write a few days ago, part II won't be done for a few more days so be patient
The winter wind cried loud, cutting down the silence that held dominion a few short moments ago. Cold and shrill the wind threw dust into the sky and made the trees cry out as if to say 'no more', the sun was retreating behind the green hills abandoning the sky letting the moon take her place high above as twilight turned to night. The green of the hills and grass held no comfort; they had now become a shell of their former selves as the echo of the sunlight no longer reflected within them, instead standing like grey mounds under the moon light sending haunting messages to any passer by that dared to walk the night. This land was Ireland, to be more exact the province of Laigin, two miles south of Dun Ailinne. It had been many years since the king Aedh the Great had risen to unite all the war chiefs under one banner and lead them against a common foe; the pagan Vikings. His armies stamped out all Nordic settlements on the isle and drove them back into the waves from whence they came. Yet his great vision of a unified Ireland ended there, for after the Vikings left a great civil war ravaged what was once a proud kingdom.
Aedh died shortly after war broke out, his home was once again in turmoil, and his son Aedh II would never be able to copy his father's deed. This was the way of life for the Irish people, fighting endlessly against one another, scraping together meager armies of warriors and killing fellow Irish, all under a seemingly noble cause, all to be King of the Isle. For one hundred long years they fought one another, clan's rivalries turned into hatreds after such a long period of death and killing. Yet none of the warlords of chiefs would ever assume the title of King, though many tried. For each time one came close another would rise to make war upon him and the cycle would continue all over again. Few cared to look beyond the shores of their homeland; their arrogance grew with every passing year. They held themselves in such high regard simply because they had defeated the Vikings, every last one of them would prove to be fools in the end.
For there was a great threat rising beyond the shore, but not from the Vikings, they had built themselves an empire in Scotland, they were content there. This new threat seemed to put the Vikings to shame, a new enemy whose power only grew as time rolled forward. A people who, like the Vikings, had invaded Britain looking for plunder. The Saxons they called themselves, and their empire stretched far in the lands of Britain. They had arrived and cut a path of blood and death wherever they went; Saxon lore ran from the northern reaches of Northumbria in the south of Scotland, to the hills and former homes of the welsh, and down to the very southern shores of Britain itself. The Saxon King was a proud man, having carved out the largest empire in the Isle, he knew that no army could stand against him; except maybe the Vikings of course.
Yet the King of the Saxons, Wulfhid III, was intrigued greatly by the landmass of Ireland. He had been told tales of it in his youth, of the great warriors there who had expelled the fierce northern raiders and sent them back into the sea. However he looked to Ireland now and was deeply disappointed, for now all that was left was a land of greedy warlords scrounging for any sort of land they came hold together, each one of them to pathetic to even call a kingdom. It took it upon himself to pacify this war torn land, to bring order where chaos had free reign, to teach the Irish people what it was to have peace. It was the year 900 A.D when he invaded the Island, local armies were to tired to put up much of a fight, though they tried and fought with valor many times that of the Saxon invaders, they could not stand to a charge of the deadly Huscarls as they exited out from behind their shield wall.
Thus it began and thus it continued, The Irish armies were in shambles after the century of warfare that had plagued their island, and this new enemy was fiercer than any Viking their tales ever told of. Yet there was some who fought, and fight well they did, but their numbers were always too few. That is where our story begins, the story that was recounted to me so many years ago.
The Stand at Dun Ailinne (part 1)
Conall walked out of the Mead hall, stumbling around as he walked trying to keep his balance in his drunken state. This was becoming more frequent for him, and not something he was particularly proud of. He could barely open his eyes he was so drunk, the torches lighting the street gave little light for him. He stopped walking for a moment and looked up at the dark winder sky. Even in his current state he became lost in the open darkness and found it was a beautiful site. "F-father" he said, trying his best not to slur his wording. He could sense a dulled feeling of sadness creeping up onto him, something that had not been drowned in the large amount of mead he had just consumed, his sorrow had a strange habit of floating in a sea of drink no mater how much there was. "I-im ss-so sorry" he continued, his voice seemed more quiet than normal. Conall's eyes began to water, and tears began to fall from the small slits his eyelids had left open. he stumbled as he tried to walk again, tumbling into the wall of a house next to him. It wasn't even his home but that didn't matter, Conall simply sat down with his back to the stone structure and looked up again. Upon the ground he seemed to get a better view of the world, he laughed finally realizing he drank to much as his eyes closed and sleep came upon the tired warrior.
It was morning, well after when Conall finally awoke from sleep on the street. He wasn't surprised he had been left alone the entire night by the town's guard, with the War against the Saxons there was not many left to civil defenses, and still a sleeping drunk was not much of a bother to those who were. Many where out now, walking around trading at markets and drinking at the nearby hall, Conall tried to rise from his seat so he would not attract attention, but he was stopped by a large and pounding ache in his head. He fell right back to the ground holding his head on both sides trying to make the pain go away. His eyes opened as a small smile appeared on his face, his long brown hair was smashed under his hands as he slightly laughed "I had to much to drink." Conall took his right hand and wiped his eyes removing the dried tears from the night before, his sorrow had been pushed under the need to find a bed and sleep the rest of his pain and misery away. The warrior rose up; only now realizing his sword was by his side. His armor was heavy to him, he wore the garments of a royal guardsman to the king of the Irish, yet in fact there was no king. His weapon and dress were handed down through generations of his family, each worn by the first son. It was supposed to be a reminder of a time when his family had served Aedh the great, but that was a time far passed and Conall himself cared not the least about such things.
His head began to throb even harder as he reached his feet. The words of his father echoed through his mind as a guilty taint crossed his face. Conall's father, now dead, had led the warriors of Dun Ailinne out against the Saxon king himself one year ago, though they managed to drive the Saxon advance back and force them to retreat, his father and fully eighty percent of the Irish army was slain. The victory came at great cost, many saw it as a message; one that said to surrender to the invaders, but the more proud warriors realized that victory and peace would only come at the cost of blood, so they continued to fight on. "Protect the peace my son", those were the last words of Conall's father as he departed, and those words the young man never forgot. Conall was very young compared to the other warriors in the village, at no older than seventeen they used to joke endlessly with him, but Conall would just laugh and make them eat their words as he drank them under the table time and again.
A voice then rose above the crowd, the entire world seemed to hush as the words rang clear, though in fact the noise did no such thing. "You there, Guardsman!" The words were nothing like Conall had heard before. He had thought only in his family knew the cloths he wore were that of a Guard. His head turned searching for the voice, and behind him he saw a man no older than he, yet he seemed different. His black hair shone in the light of the clear morning sun, and by his look and build Conall figured he was very strong. Conall couldn't hide the fact he was confused, it shone through his face clearer than a torch in a dark forest. His eyes began to shake and soon the ache in his head seemed to all but disappear. The young man then spoke again, his voice seemed to command respect despite his young age. I did not think any still wore those cloths he said as a smile hit his face, yet they hide what he truly felt. Conall was no fool, and even hung-over like he was he could tell there was a look of worry and concern in this man's face.
"Who are you?" Conall asked, trying to hide the fact he was completely astonished and the fact that he was coming down from a night of drinking. The man looked about him for a moment, then replied rather arrogantly "I am Aedh the third!"
Conall burst into wild laughter at the comment. "I Am you know!" the man repeated, but his voice was filled with shock at Conall's reaction. The warrior couldn't help but laugh; this stranger had the nerve to claim decent from Aedh the great After a while Conall's laughter subsided he looked at the man smiling, still chuckling from time to time.
"Oh alright then." Conall laughed again, he dug beneath his armor as if searching for something. After a moment of this he pulled out a small pierce of parchment, on it there held a symbol, the symbol of the royal house of Ireland that Aedh the great had created those many years ago. The man smiled as it was presented before him, almost in a mirror image of Conall he brought out a small pierce of cloth, and on it was the exact same thing that Conall had. The warrior's eyes filled with alarm as he realized that this man truly was Aedh the third, grandson of the last king of Ireland. Conall couldn't believe it, his hands began to shake as he realized his wrong.
"I...I am so sorry my liege" he bowed his head, his eyes still wide in amazement. Aedh only replied to him a simple statement that filled the already worried guard with fear and put terror in his eyes.
"Gather all warriors you can, the Saxons come within the week" His voice was shockingly calm, as if he had known of this for a long time. Conall lifted his head to question this order, but Aedh was nowhere to be seen. Conall's fear only grew, and he felt his stomach tighten as the emotion gripped hold of him. If it was true that the Saxons had regrouped for another push into Irish territory, then there would be many who would fall both Saxon and Irish. Looking frantically about him, Conall scanned the crowd looking for Aedh, but found no luck in his search. One week he thought I must follow his orders...even if he isn't Aedh, I must raise the Alarm The guardsman raced down the street the short distance to the mead hall where he had stumbled from the night before and threw in the doors. The light from outside shinned in as the laughter inside poured out, the bards were telling their tales and many had gathered today to hear to saga of Aedh the great. Conall rushed to the front of the hall pushing aside the story tellers, to much annoyance to the patrons who had gathered.
His voice silenced them as he threw his hands up in warning crying out in a fear filled voice "Listen to me!" the hall became silent, quieter than the night sky after a storm. "The Saxons are coming this way! We must Gather our weapons and fight!" there was a silent wave of fear that crashed onto each man sitting in the hall; some were already drunk, but sober enough to understand the danger they were in. Each now sat in quiet disbelief in what they heard when a young man walked through the door. Conall's eyes fixed upon him, and immediately he knew it was Aedh, yet this time the crest of the royal line was standing in contrast attached to the front of his armor. The warriors within could not believe what they saw, their eyes opened wider than the seas and their fear turned to joy.
"I am Aedh the Third" Aedh shouted, his voice filling the halls and his commanding tone ringing in the ears of each present. "I have come from the north to lead you all into battle against the Saxons." a feeling of joy began to melt away the icy grip of fear that had once held these men as their faces echoed their emotion loud and clear. "All of you, I ask that now, we unite as we did in days long past, to expel the invaders who have disgraced our homeland with their uncaring feet." By now all of the warriors within could not hide their happiness, nor did they wish to. They were sitting with their hands upon their swords with smiles on their faces, for now they had a leader who could show them victory. "Will you stand with me?" Aedh asked, his voice never falling in confidence or tone. "Will you help me save our home?"
There was a great cry within the hall, and outside the hall to as people had heard him, this stranger asking for somebody to rise up with him, they gathered with their weapons, old and young to give their life for his cause. Voice filled the air, voices proclaiming their name and that of their family giving their service to the young man. As the voices died away Conall found himself in an uncontrolled state of joy as he smiled "And I, Conall the grey, stand with you." he was the last to give his allegiance openly, yet the most proud by far. The sun was high in the blue sky as the people followed Aedh to the nearby Keep and crowned him King, though it would take time for word to reach the other villages of the return of the royal line. Conall was appointed the king's guard, and served under Aedh as both his adviser and bodyguard, but the Saxons would be marching on Dun Ailinne in a matter of days, the battle that would follow, though unknown, would shape the course of history for all time.
edited: looks the the move to the new board caused a lot of the "" marks to dissapear. it's been fixed now.
The winter wind cried loud, cutting down the silence that held dominion a few short moments ago. Cold and shrill the wind threw dust into the sky and made the trees cry out as if to say 'no more', the sun was retreating behind the green hills abandoning the sky letting the moon take her place high above as twilight turned to night. The green of the hills and grass held no comfort; they had now become a shell of their former selves as the echo of the sunlight no longer reflected within them, instead standing like grey mounds under the moon light sending haunting messages to any passer by that dared to walk the night. This land was Ireland, to be more exact the province of Laigin, two miles south of Dun Ailinne. It had been many years since the king Aedh the Great had risen to unite all the war chiefs under one banner and lead them against a common foe; the pagan Vikings. His armies stamped out all Nordic settlements on the isle and drove them back into the waves from whence they came. Yet his great vision of a unified Ireland ended there, for after the Vikings left a great civil war ravaged what was once a proud kingdom.
Aedh died shortly after war broke out, his home was once again in turmoil, and his son Aedh II would never be able to copy his father's deed. This was the way of life for the Irish people, fighting endlessly against one another, scraping together meager armies of warriors and killing fellow Irish, all under a seemingly noble cause, all to be King of the Isle. For one hundred long years they fought one another, clan's rivalries turned into hatreds after such a long period of death and killing. Yet none of the warlords of chiefs would ever assume the title of King, though many tried. For each time one came close another would rise to make war upon him and the cycle would continue all over again. Few cared to look beyond the shores of their homeland; their arrogance grew with every passing year. They held themselves in such high regard simply because they had defeated the Vikings, every last one of them would prove to be fools in the end.
For there was a great threat rising beyond the shore, but not from the Vikings, they had built themselves an empire in Scotland, they were content there. This new threat seemed to put the Vikings to shame, a new enemy whose power only grew as time rolled forward. A people who, like the Vikings, had invaded Britain looking for plunder. The Saxons they called themselves, and their empire stretched far in the lands of Britain. They had arrived and cut a path of blood and death wherever they went; Saxon lore ran from the northern reaches of Northumbria in the south of Scotland, to the hills and former homes of the welsh, and down to the very southern shores of Britain itself. The Saxon King was a proud man, having carved out the largest empire in the Isle, he knew that no army could stand against him; except maybe the Vikings of course.
Yet the King of the Saxons, Wulfhid III, was intrigued greatly by the landmass of Ireland. He had been told tales of it in his youth, of the great warriors there who had expelled the fierce northern raiders and sent them back into the sea. However he looked to Ireland now and was deeply disappointed, for now all that was left was a land of greedy warlords scrounging for any sort of land they came hold together, each one of them to pathetic to even call a kingdom. It took it upon himself to pacify this war torn land, to bring order where chaos had free reign, to teach the Irish people what it was to have peace. It was the year 900 A.D when he invaded the Island, local armies were to tired to put up much of a fight, though they tried and fought with valor many times that of the Saxon invaders, they could not stand to a charge of the deadly Huscarls as they exited out from behind their shield wall.
Thus it began and thus it continued, The Irish armies were in shambles after the century of warfare that had plagued their island, and this new enemy was fiercer than any Viking their tales ever told of. Yet there was some who fought, and fight well they did, but their numbers were always too few. That is where our story begins, the story that was recounted to me so many years ago.
The Stand at Dun Ailinne (part 1)
Conall walked out of the Mead hall, stumbling around as he walked trying to keep his balance in his drunken state. This was becoming more frequent for him, and not something he was particularly proud of. He could barely open his eyes he was so drunk, the torches lighting the street gave little light for him. He stopped walking for a moment and looked up at the dark winder sky. Even in his current state he became lost in the open darkness and found it was a beautiful site. "F-father" he said, trying his best not to slur his wording. He could sense a dulled feeling of sadness creeping up onto him, something that had not been drowned in the large amount of mead he had just consumed, his sorrow had a strange habit of floating in a sea of drink no mater how much there was. "I-im ss-so sorry" he continued, his voice seemed more quiet than normal. Conall's eyes began to water, and tears began to fall from the small slits his eyelids had left open. he stumbled as he tried to walk again, tumbling into the wall of a house next to him. It wasn't even his home but that didn't matter, Conall simply sat down with his back to the stone structure and looked up again. Upon the ground he seemed to get a better view of the world, he laughed finally realizing he drank to much as his eyes closed and sleep came upon the tired warrior.
It was morning, well after when Conall finally awoke from sleep on the street. He wasn't surprised he had been left alone the entire night by the town's guard, with the War against the Saxons there was not many left to civil defenses, and still a sleeping drunk was not much of a bother to those who were. Many where out now, walking around trading at markets and drinking at the nearby hall, Conall tried to rise from his seat so he would not attract attention, but he was stopped by a large and pounding ache in his head. He fell right back to the ground holding his head on both sides trying to make the pain go away. His eyes opened as a small smile appeared on his face, his long brown hair was smashed under his hands as he slightly laughed "I had to much to drink." Conall took his right hand and wiped his eyes removing the dried tears from the night before, his sorrow had been pushed under the need to find a bed and sleep the rest of his pain and misery away. The warrior rose up; only now realizing his sword was by his side. His armor was heavy to him, he wore the garments of a royal guardsman to the king of the Irish, yet in fact there was no king. His weapon and dress were handed down through generations of his family, each worn by the first son. It was supposed to be a reminder of a time when his family had served Aedh the great, but that was a time far passed and Conall himself cared not the least about such things.
His head began to throb even harder as he reached his feet. The words of his father echoed through his mind as a guilty taint crossed his face. Conall's father, now dead, had led the warriors of Dun Ailinne out against the Saxon king himself one year ago, though they managed to drive the Saxon advance back and force them to retreat, his father and fully eighty percent of the Irish army was slain. The victory came at great cost, many saw it as a message; one that said to surrender to the invaders, but the more proud warriors realized that victory and peace would only come at the cost of blood, so they continued to fight on. "Protect the peace my son", those were the last words of Conall's father as he departed, and those words the young man never forgot. Conall was very young compared to the other warriors in the village, at no older than seventeen they used to joke endlessly with him, but Conall would just laugh and make them eat their words as he drank them under the table time and again.
A voice then rose above the crowd, the entire world seemed to hush as the words rang clear, though in fact the noise did no such thing. "You there, Guardsman!" The words were nothing like Conall had heard before. He had thought only in his family knew the cloths he wore were that of a Guard. His head turned searching for the voice, and behind him he saw a man no older than he, yet he seemed different. His black hair shone in the light of the clear morning sun, and by his look and build Conall figured he was very strong. Conall couldn't hide the fact he was confused, it shone through his face clearer than a torch in a dark forest. His eyes began to shake and soon the ache in his head seemed to all but disappear. The young man then spoke again, his voice seemed to command respect despite his young age. I did not think any still wore those cloths he said as a smile hit his face, yet they hide what he truly felt. Conall was no fool, and even hung-over like he was he could tell there was a look of worry and concern in this man's face.
"Who are you?" Conall asked, trying to hide the fact he was completely astonished and the fact that he was coming down from a night of drinking. The man looked about him for a moment, then replied rather arrogantly "I am Aedh the third!"
Conall burst into wild laughter at the comment. "I Am you know!" the man repeated, but his voice was filled with shock at Conall's reaction. The warrior couldn't help but laugh; this stranger had the nerve to claim decent from Aedh the great After a while Conall's laughter subsided he looked at the man smiling, still chuckling from time to time.
"Oh alright then." Conall laughed again, he dug beneath his armor as if searching for something. After a moment of this he pulled out a small pierce of parchment, on it there held a symbol, the symbol of the royal house of Ireland that Aedh the great had created those many years ago. The man smiled as it was presented before him, almost in a mirror image of Conall he brought out a small pierce of cloth, and on it was the exact same thing that Conall had. The warrior's eyes filled with alarm as he realized that this man truly was Aedh the third, grandson of the last king of Ireland. Conall couldn't believe it, his hands began to shake as he realized his wrong.
"I...I am so sorry my liege" he bowed his head, his eyes still wide in amazement. Aedh only replied to him a simple statement that filled the already worried guard with fear and put terror in his eyes.
"Gather all warriors you can, the Saxons come within the week" His voice was shockingly calm, as if he had known of this for a long time. Conall lifted his head to question this order, but Aedh was nowhere to be seen. Conall's fear only grew, and he felt his stomach tighten as the emotion gripped hold of him. If it was true that the Saxons had regrouped for another push into Irish territory, then there would be many who would fall both Saxon and Irish. Looking frantically about him, Conall scanned the crowd looking for Aedh, but found no luck in his search. One week he thought I must follow his orders...even if he isn't Aedh, I must raise the Alarm The guardsman raced down the street the short distance to the mead hall where he had stumbled from the night before and threw in the doors. The light from outside shinned in as the laughter inside poured out, the bards were telling their tales and many had gathered today to hear to saga of Aedh the great. Conall rushed to the front of the hall pushing aside the story tellers, to much annoyance to the patrons who had gathered.
His voice silenced them as he threw his hands up in warning crying out in a fear filled voice "Listen to me!" the hall became silent, quieter than the night sky after a storm. "The Saxons are coming this way! We must Gather our weapons and fight!" there was a silent wave of fear that crashed onto each man sitting in the hall; some were already drunk, but sober enough to understand the danger they were in. Each now sat in quiet disbelief in what they heard when a young man walked through the door. Conall's eyes fixed upon him, and immediately he knew it was Aedh, yet this time the crest of the royal line was standing in contrast attached to the front of his armor. The warriors within could not believe what they saw, their eyes opened wider than the seas and their fear turned to joy.
"I am Aedh the Third" Aedh shouted, his voice filling the halls and his commanding tone ringing in the ears of each present. "I have come from the north to lead you all into battle against the Saxons." a feeling of joy began to melt away the icy grip of fear that had once held these men as their faces echoed their emotion loud and clear. "All of you, I ask that now, we unite as we did in days long past, to expel the invaders who have disgraced our homeland with their uncaring feet." By now all of the warriors within could not hide their happiness, nor did they wish to. They were sitting with their hands upon their swords with smiles on their faces, for now they had a leader who could show them victory. "Will you stand with me?" Aedh asked, his voice never falling in confidence or tone. "Will you help me save our home?"
There was a great cry within the hall, and outside the hall to as people had heard him, this stranger asking for somebody to rise up with him, they gathered with their weapons, old and young to give their life for his cause. Voice filled the air, voices proclaiming their name and that of their family giving their service to the young man. As the voices died away Conall found himself in an uncontrolled state of joy as he smiled "And I, Conall the grey, stand with you." he was the last to give his allegiance openly, yet the most proud by far. The sun was high in the blue sky as the people followed Aedh to the nearby Keep and crowned him King, though it would take time for word to reach the other villages of the return of the royal line. Conall was appointed the king's guard, and served under Aedh as both his adviser and bodyguard, but the Saxons would be marching on Dun Ailinne in a matter of days, the battle that would follow, though unknown, would shape the course of history for all time.
edited: looks the the move to the new board caused a lot of the "" marks to dissapear. it's been fixed now.