- Joined
- Dec 12, 2006
- Messages
- 1,664
Haha! I have returned to the storyboarding section to add another piece to my collection of stories. I was inspired whilst listening to Disturbed's Believe album. The song in particular, is 'Rise'. Enjoy.
WARNING: The following story may or may not contain words you've learned in fourth grade and/or intense violence. Read at your own risk!
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It is a dark night tonight. Rain begins to pour down the deserted houses of the village of Angarn. The villagers had fled to the safety of the mountains earlier that day. An army of savage raiders had bombarded the village with crude catapults. They threw torches at Angarn's wooden walls, as to make way for the infantry. It would not be long before Angarn's only defense from total destruction, it's small garrison, would be forced to combat the invaders.
"Do not fear, my comrades," says the captain of the guard, Sir William, to his troops. "Though they will come with steel swords and axes, with huge spears, with catapults, with torches... we will prevail!" he said, with great emphasis on the last word. "My final order for you, my fine soldiers, my friends, my brothers... is to rise. Rise, and show these barbarians you have no fear... Rise, and show them that Angarn is a village to be reckoned with. Show them that YOU are men to be reckoned with!"
And with that, the men roared and cheered and stomped their feet and clanked their shields. All traces of doubt and fear left them, and was quickly replaced with a newfound inner strength and courage. Sir William thrust his sword into the air.
"RISE MY BROTHERS! SHOW THEM NO MERCY!"
And the battle of Angarn had began...
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"Let us show these Angarnians how we Alfgeir fight!" shouted Skorghiil. "Let us bring their severed heads home to be mounted on our walls! Let us loot and plunder their homes! Let us enslave their women and children!" The Alfgeirian raiders laughed and cheered in approval, and Skorghiil continued, in an even louder tone. "Let us fight these weaklings! Let us BATTLE! LET... US... KILL!" he roared. And with that, the Alfgeirians charged into the city, and right into the lines of the Agnarians... and their spears. Twenty Alfgeirians died, but more kept coming. The wall of spears was eventually broken, and, the Alfgeirians began to gain the upper-hand. Little did they know that their were Archers posted ontop of the buildings. A volley of arrows flew from their bows, and down onto the unsuspecting Alfgeirians. Many of the arrows penetrated weak spots in the raiders' armor, and more Alfgeirians fell. This urged the invaders into a berserk rage, and they fought harder and more aggressively than before. But the Angarnians' resolve proved to be a great challenge. They began to push their attackers into a forced retreat.
But Jarl Skorghiil, the leader of the Alfgeirian raiders, wouldn't give up without causing grief to his people's enemy. "Burn down the granaries and food-stores! Let these Angarnian pigs starve!" The raiders poured oil on the granary and lit it, and, even in the rain, the fire grew to massive proportions. Satisfied, Skorghiil called to his men again. "Now let us retreat back to Alfgeir! Come on, you lazy routs!"
One by one, the Alfgeirian raiders retreated, but they left behind their mark. Blood and gore, broken axe-hafts, shields, and helmets lined the ground. Smoke rose from the granary from the incinerated food wood. But this did not mean that the Agnarians didn't do the same for the Alfgeirians. Sir William carefully planned the defense, assuming the Alfgeirians' every move beforehand. This meant that the attackers lost more lives than the defenders.
It would be awhile before the village would be back to its normal state, but, things would work out... for the meantime. Little do both sides know that their fates would be intertwined for an upcoming battle that would decide both their destinies and the fate of the world they lived in.
WARNING: The following story may or may not contain words you've learned in fourth grade and/or intense violence. Read at your own risk!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is a dark night tonight. Rain begins to pour down the deserted houses of the village of Angarn. The villagers had fled to the safety of the mountains earlier that day. An army of savage raiders had bombarded the village with crude catapults. They threw torches at Angarn's wooden walls, as to make way for the infantry. It would not be long before Angarn's only defense from total destruction, it's small garrison, would be forced to combat the invaders.
"Do not fear, my comrades," says the captain of the guard, Sir William, to his troops. "Though they will come with steel swords and axes, with huge spears, with catapults, with torches... we will prevail!" he said, with great emphasis on the last word. "My final order for you, my fine soldiers, my friends, my brothers... is to rise. Rise, and show these barbarians you have no fear... Rise, and show them that Angarn is a village to be reckoned with. Show them that YOU are men to be reckoned with!"
And with that, the men roared and cheered and stomped their feet and clanked their shields. All traces of doubt and fear left them, and was quickly replaced with a newfound inner strength and courage. Sir William thrust his sword into the air.
"RISE MY BROTHERS! SHOW THEM NO MERCY!"
And the battle of Angarn had began...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Let us show these Angarnians how we Alfgeir fight!" shouted Skorghiil. "Let us bring their severed heads home to be mounted on our walls! Let us loot and plunder their homes! Let us enslave their women and children!" The Alfgeirian raiders laughed and cheered in approval, and Skorghiil continued, in an even louder tone. "Let us fight these weaklings! Let us BATTLE! LET... US... KILL!" he roared. And with that, the Alfgeirians charged into the city, and right into the lines of the Agnarians... and their spears. Twenty Alfgeirians died, but more kept coming. The wall of spears was eventually broken, and, the Alfgeirians began to gain the upper-hand. Little did they know that their were Archers posted ontop of the buildings. A volley of arrows flew from their bows, and down onto the unsuspecting Alfgeirians. Many of the arrows penetrated weak spots in the raiders' armor, and more Alfgeirians fell. This urged the invaders into a berserk rage, and they fought harder and more aggressively than before. But the Angarnians' resolve proved to be a great challenge. They began to push their attackers into a forced retreat.
But Jarl Skorghiil, the leader of the Alfgeirian raiders, wouldn't give up without causing grief to his people's enemy. "Burn down the granaries and food-stores! Let these Angarnian pigs starve!" The raiders poured oil on the granary and lit it, and, even in the rain, the fire grew to massive proportions. Satisfied, Skorghiil called to his men again. "Now let us retreat back to Alfgeir! Come on, you lazy routs!"
One by one, the Alfgeirian raiders retreated, but they left behind their mark. Blood and gore, broken axe-hafts, shields, and helmets lined the ground. Smoke rose from the granary from the incinerated food wood. But this did not mean that the Agnarians didn't do the same for the Alfgeirians. Sir William carefully planned the defense, assuming the Alfgeirians' every move beforehand. This meant that the attackers lost more lives than the defenders.
It would be awhile before the village would be back to its normal state, but, things would work out... for the meantime. Little do both sides know that their fates would be intertwined for an upcoming battle that would decide both their destinies and the fate of the world they lived in.
