Magic Empire

This is written purely out of spite, because I am so sick of listening to people talk about game of thrones, and I personally could not care even the tiniest bit about it because as far as I can tell it doesn't have anywhere near enough magic in it for it to be a decent fantasy story- oh yeah some crow with 3 eyes, and some dumb broad with some baby dragons and even some fire breathers who bring people back to life or some crap eventually emerge into the story, far too little and far too late in the story for me to ever consider reading (or watching for that matter) because its mostly politics and backstabbing, might as well be the real world...

Anyway this story, is the typical fantasy type story- Evil wizard (sort of evil in the sense that lelouche vi britannia or kira were evil) who is basically a cross between Darken Rahl and Aizen Sousuke, is the secret ruler of a rapidly expanding empire with aspirations of world domination is eventually thwarted by well intention-ed "good guys"

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1. Barbarism

The stone bridge beneath his feet, devoid of railing or support and worn by the tracks and travels of the monsters inside this cavern was nonetheless the only way for the barbarian to progress further up. There were no windows or natural light sources inside but blazing fires highlighting banners that lined the ridge around the outskirts of the cavern. 

 

Although the fires themselves were large enough individually to light up a small hall (he knew as much for he had stood near to one of the blazing monstrosities on the way up) they collectively did little more than provide dim light, the cavern was that huge inside.

 

Even squinting and used to this gloom, the barbarian's eyes nonetheless strained to make out the narrow path ahead of him. He could make out the outline of figures rallying together near the entrance ahead to the end of the bridge- some of the figures appeared to be half as tall again as the others and the barbarian dearly hoped it was just a trick of the light.

 

The figures were now arguing, then shoving, the sounds of grunts and squeals filling the air as they quarreled over who would be where. 

 

Suddenly one of the larger figures one of the smaller ones straight into one of the makeshift stone wells that housed the fires, sending embers and bits of stone into the air, landing nearby with a crash, the fire flaring up briefly with its new fuel, briefly exposing the immediate area with its flash.

 

In the light cast off the fire the barbarian saw two parties, one consisting of Goblins all armed with short bows and although he could not see them from this distance, he nevertheless felt certain that each carried one of those long twisted knives they all seemed to carry. The other party consisted of Orcs, the huge figures that had dwarfed the not informidable Goblins.

 

The Orc that had thrown the Goblin at the fire was staring at his work seemingly oblivious to the fact that two of the Goblin's party had drawn their bows in response and had their aim fixed squarely on him. The fallen Goblin was now standing up and brushing burning embers from his shoulders, and drawing his long, thin jagged knife from a sheath on his back, the long curve of its blade glinting in the glow surrounding him from the nearby fire, its uneven serrated back exposed in all its wretched cruelty.

 

The light shone off the blade in an arc that swept across and into the Orc's eyes causing him to turn away from its glare. Unfortunately for the barbarian, this brought him directly into his line of sight. The Orc's head stopped, locked into eye contact with the brutish warrior, squinting to be sure that it really did see someone on the stone bridge.

 

It snorted, lips curling back and baring it's teeth, rows of razor sharp crooked fangs itching to tear flesh. Then suddenly it roared, its mighty bellow shattering the tension that had apparently preceded and unifying both the party of Goblins and the party of Orcs, their differences forgotten in the shared interest of killing the intruder. 

 

The Goblins scanned the bridge in front of them, a couple pointing and showing others where the barbarian stood, now drawing a hatchet into his right hand, keeping the broadsword in his left hand, though trying to shift it around to alleviate the sweating his hand had done around the hilt. The Goblins had taken aim, while the others had pointed and their arrows were already sailing through the air in the barbarian's direction when the other Goblins had started drawing their bows. 

 

The barbarian started running as fast as he could towards the edge of the bridge where the party of Orcs had started charging towards him, either not realizing or not caring that this would invariably bring them into the path of the flying arrows.  Arrows skimmed past him, some falling into the cold dark void beneath the bridge others rattling to a halt on the bridge behind or in front of him. He pumped his legs faster, trying to run faster towards the group.

 

He knew this was it, the only hope he had of surviving this being to gather as much speed as possible before he collided with the group. They were nearly a foot taller than him with a similar build and he knew he would need both the force of speed and his own body weight combined to have any hopes of knocking one of them down.

 

He could hear their grunts and snorts as he thundered closer, spurred on by necessity and the constant stream of arrows flying all around him, dodging each one as nimbly and deftly as a man half his size. His heart hammered in his chest as an arrow sailed by, scraping and cutting his skin along the edge of the shoulder but fortunately didn't pierce into his flesh.

 

He could smell the odor of the Orcs and knew he was only feet away. He leapt into the air bringing both arms in towards his chest as he did so, crossing his arms and bringing his knees up as far as his arms would comfortably allow, before slamming both feet into the chest of the center Orc and almost within the same breath slammed both arms out hitting an Orc on either side, his left arm carving a slice of out an Orc's face while his right arm lodged the hatched squarely into the other Orc's temple, lodging itself into the skull, bringing the deceased Orc down with him.

 

As soon as the first Orc landed on the ground an arrow slammed through the barbarians shoulder reminding him that the Orcs surrounding him were not his only threat. He jumped back just in time to avoid the arc of a great sword slicing through the air. As he stepped back out of both the swords path and the arrow that hit the unfortunate and overzealous Orc that had swung the sword, eliciting a roar of pain, and providing the barbarian the opportunity he needed to close the gap and run him through with his broad sword. 

 

The party of Orcs had been nearly cut in half, with one dead on the floor with a hatched embedded in his skull, another with an arrow in his and a sword in his guts, and of the remaining four only two were currently standing, the other two slowly clambering back up having been knocked down in the barbarians initial charge. 

 

He grabbed the great sword and wove and darted between them, parrying their blows and countering every chance he got, though the narrow bridge made maneuvering and sidestepping effectively extremely difficult and treacherous. Nevertheless he had managed to kill the two standing brutes by the time the other two had managed to get to their feet again, though the effort of dodging their blows and avoiding plummeting to his death had meant forgoing the luxury of also avoiding the arrows, which stuck out of both shoulders and his back.

 

Another arrow flew past as he locked swords with the Orc immediately in front of him, pushing as hard as he could in a seeming effort to drive the Orc back and off the edge of the narrow path. The Orc had apparently had the same idea and the difference in their raw physical power became noticed then as the barbarian was driven backwards to the edge. He waited until he felt the stones fall just behind his feet before he pulled his arms back towards his chest and spun to the side of the Orc who still pushing with all its might, ended up pushing only itself straight off the edge and down into the gaping maw beneath them.

 

Deciding he could afford to leave the last Orc, until after he had dealt with the Goblins whose arrows were still piercing him when they hit and cutting his skin when they barely missed, he turned from the bleeding faced Orc and charged instead towards the party of archers that had inflicted more damage on him than the whole party of huge monstrous Orcs. 

 

Some of them, after having saw his battle with the Orcs fled the moment they saw him charging at their group instead while the others just drew their aim and fired, thinking that the closer he came the easier a target he would become. However, with his attention no longer split, he was able to dodge the arrows with relative ease. 

 

Leapt again, this time with the great sword swung above his head and brought it straight down onto the skull of one of the Goblins, caving it in, and sending bits of chipped bone and brain flying when he ripped it back out of the skull to swing at a neighboring Goblin that had drawn its cruel knife. The blade swung cleanly through the air, whistling then whooshing as it neatly decapitated the wretched creature before it had had a chance to cut him with its own blade.

 

They were much faster than the Orcs and the blood flowing from the wounds caused by the arrows were beginning to take their toll. His own speed was flagging and though only two of the Goblins remained ( the only other two that hadn't fled lying dead at his feet) they were nonetheless presenting more of a problem than he thought they would. 

He swung at one head only to have it ducked and the assailant come sweeping in to gut him. He sucked his gut in and doubled over away from the swing just barely evading it. He swung again, this time at the other one, who barely dodged and came in for its own counter attack once again, this time, he sidestepped, grabbing the Goblin's wrist as he did so and headbutted him square on the nose crushing it and sending rivulets of blood streaming down its face. 

As it stood dazed he released the wrist, put his hand back on to his hilt to join the other then swung the blade upward slashing right along its torso and face.

 

The thing fell lifeless to the ground just as he felt cold steel pierce through from his back, the tip of the blade peeking out of his stomach, pieces of intestine hanging from its razor sharp jagged edges. He heard laughter from the creature behind him, and swung his sword one handed, catching it in the face at eye level, the blade travelling halfway through the skull until becoming stuck. The body fell also, and the sword with it, the barbarian no longer having enough strength to wrench it free and dimly haunted by the fact that even though the rest of the Goblins had fled off to other floors and sections of the cavern, the last Orc was still about somewhere.

 

He turned away from the dead bodies lying at his feet and back to the collection of ones lying on the bridge and heavy footed began to stagger back there, knowing that if he were to have any chance left he would need his hatchet and broad sword.

 

He managed to arrive back unassailed and was just picking up his sword when the light grew suddenly dimmer and a familiar whoosh made him jump back and away, the tip of the hilt slipping from his fingers and clanging back against the stone floor as the heavy great sword crashed into the ground where he had stood in a shower of dust and pebbles. He tried to back away further but the Orc with the bleeding face grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air in front of him.

 

He heard a roar overhead loud enough to distract both warriors who looked up briefly, but long enough to see the huge red dragon circling above. He looked back at his attacker, whose fierce grip was so tight that it was crushing both his windpipe as well as cutting off the flow of blood to the brain. He was going to die here if he didn't do something. 

 

He had no weapons left but he was damned if he was going to let this thing kill him. He kicked and clawed futilely against its body and grasp respectively, but in his weakened state, deprived of oxygen, wounded and bleeding freely, his attacks were ineffectual and served only to hasten the encroach of unconsciousness.

 

In desperation an idea occurred to him, and latching onto it he used the last of his strength to grab one of the arrows sticking out of his shoulder, and snapping it in two, slammed the broken shaft of wood straight into the Orc's left eye bringing a deafening scream of anguish and rage from it as well as causing it to release his throat dropping him to the ground. 

 

They were at the edge of the bridge though and when he hit the ground in a skittering of stones and stouring of dust, his footing went beneath him and he skidded backwards, falling. His hand snapped up and caught the edge, holding on to life by the limited strength that his body still possessed, self preservation the only thing keeping him alive, his energy reserves having run out long ago. The beast above him still roared in pain and he could see that the dragon above it was no longer circling but now was diving through the air, straight towards him.

 

He wanted to give up, to let go, his arm hurt that bad, his body aching from its many wounds, and the overwhelming futility of his struggle seemed to loom overhead. Even if he could beat the Orc above him, he could never defeat the dragon, certainly not in his current condition. Death seemed inevitable now and his desire to fight it seemed to wane.

 

His grip never let go of the rocky surface though even when his vision blurred turning all the shapes overhead into a mass of shadows, not even when he began to feel his intestines spilling from the wound the Goblin had tore in him. His fingers only released the rock at last when the Orc overhead stood on his hand, crushing his fingers, shattering the bones along with his last chance at survival.

 

He could hear the beasts laughter as the darkness enveloped him and the stone began to fade from him as he started to plummet, the roar of the steadily nearing dragon now seeming unimportant, trivial as he at last unable to do anything to prevent death, welcomed the cold death promised by the abyss into which he fell as unconsciousness swam over him and everything turned black as surrounding oblivion devoured him.

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