» Sat Mar 19, 2011 10:59 pm Prologue, Part One
The bearded Nord dismounted his horse, landing on his feet. Dust erupted from under the soles of his shoes, and the auburn sky streaked through the afternoon. The sun was setting, and the moon was revealing itself high in the sky. The bearded Nord walked through the gates, his sword in hand. The two sentries saluted him, both raising their spears in respect. The Nord walked through the gate, his close advisor and bodyguards closely followed him.
The clouds refused to reveal themselves that day, and the flowers hid deep within the forest, the others lying down amongst the grass. The animals retreated back to the inner depths of their home, and refused to show their faces. The horses looked on with concern, anxiously whinnying on to one another.
Gorm walked through the crowded bazaar, walking past cheering groups of his people. When he passed, they raised their hands and swords up in the air, celebrating their leader’s arrival. He was dressed in a fine steel armor, wearing only the pauldrons, besagews, briastplate, poleynes, greaves and sabatons. He looked more like a militia man with his armor, like he wore a half-completed set. Under his armor he wore a crude shirt of chain mail, which was padded by leather clothing. Gorm had a gruff look about him, and had a extremely large and intimidating build. He stood at about 6 feet 7 inches tall, his muscles huge and rippling. He had an angry and strong look about his face, all put together with a grey, scruffy beard that crudely hung to his chin. His long and uncared-for hair was swept back and braided, and his face was decorated with the most barbaric of war paint.
He continued to walk through the crowded streets of the city, toward the looming keep overhead. Every step along the way, his people cheered. Among them were a great diversity: Nords, Khajiits, Bretons, Orcs, and even Dark Elves. They each wore half-completed sets of armor, ranging in variety, and held their weapons up high. They greeted their leader with a ferocious growl and a cry of victory, praising his excellence. When he moved on, they followed, as if a dead corpse were attracting malicious flies.
Gorm, the barbaric Nord, walked into the keep, the mass of followers behind him. His people amassed the keep, crowding it to the brink. They climbed the turrets and scaled the walls to just be able to see their leader in the midst of the court. He was followed closely by his bodyguards, and his grim advisor retreated in the Castle Hall. Gorm looked around at his people and shot his arms up in victory. The crowd howled, as if the new moon attracted the grim howling of coyotes.
The door to the Castle Hall was thrown open, and two giant Orcs carried a frail, old looking man by the shoulders. He winced in the light, and the crowd booed the man. He was dressed in a monarch’s robe, but did not wear the pride that monarchs wear. Upon his face was a look of terror. The orcs dragged them to the middle of the court, where their beloved Gorm stood high.
They dropped the king at the foot of the bearded Nord and took a couple of steps back. The crowd went silent, awaiting the action of their revered leader.
“Today, is a new day! We, friends, we will rise!” Yelled Gorm, in his husky and strong voice.
“This is how it begins…” he said softly, looking at the petrified monarch. Gorm raised up his sword, and for those few seconds, the entire world stood silently. Waiting.
He brought the sword down. The crowd cheered.
Edit: Yes the title was changed for those who are wondering.
