The Fall of Ashtan: Part I
By: Agrias Posted on: April 26, 2012
Upon the glittered hilltops, down past the frozen dell,
In among the frosted trees, out past the prison cells,
Beyond the sight of cities, past the village fare,
There stands a house of reddened brick, and a girl with golden hair.
A basket clutched upon her arm, a smile on her face,
A pretty smock upon her chest, her neck; a swathe of lace,
A happy glint inside her eyes, a spring unto her pace,
As she strolls about so merrily, with a child's simple grace.
She bends to pick the flowers, she bends to pick the herbs,
She stoops to help the baby birds, of which she's just disturbed.
She springs about from place to place, she hums a little song,
She turns to breathe in deeply, without a worry of the wrong.
A trumpet breaks the silence; its bugle shatters sound,
Iron hooves trod the flowers growing on the ground.
Their riders dark and ghastly, their bows are dark and brown,
Their armour rings as arrows loose, and the poor girl's scream is drowned.
Onward does this army march, onward do they ride,
Ever on they press their steeds along the mountain side.
Out past the rivers, rushing clear; time is theirs to bide,
Always forward, always moving; they ebb on like the tide.
A banner ahead in the distance; its pennon blowing strong,
An eagle clutching manacles; stretching wings out long,
The gates of Ashtan come to view, to block this vicious throng,
And the drummers and the trumpeters, play out their battle song.
A charge ahead! A sweep aside! Their weapons proudly drawn!
The bugle's roar! The drummers beat a tattoo on the dawn!
Riding forward, they part for her, her visage tight and wan,
She narrows her eyes, and kicks her steed, and leads her forces on.
Inside the city panic spreads, as criers raise the alarm,
The bone wards rattle violently, and the city comes to harm.
The walls explode tremendous, as Jeramun's flame rearms,
And creatures dark and baleful pour past the burning barns.
A sonorous voice intones a chant, with a blinding beam of light,
And a woman ascends into the skies, with her legion horde aflight.
Eliza Montagenet takes the call, focused on this soaring blight,
And ascends herself, her magics bold, and enters in the fight.
In the city far below, there, chaos reigns supreme,
And in the city streets below, the air is filled with screams.
Minotaurs and wights lay siege, with the goblins and their schemes.
Blood runs thick through Ashtan's streets; its oppressors' eyes agleam.
The battles last for hours more, the fighting does not slow,
Both cavalry and linemen stand, both trading blow for blow.
The undead march upon them, this day is fraught with woe;
As the skies above them flash and burn, and warp, and bend, and glow.
Into the night the carnage comes, into the night it grows,
Into the night the terrors storm, as seeds of weakness sow.
Into the night the fires blaze, the houses are all aglow;
Until the night that Ashtan fell, to enemies below.
The dawning came on slowly, slowly light did glow from black,
Belladona yet withstood, with but a couple at her back.
Sarranda stayed outside the gates, and marshalled out her dues,
As Belladona cried for aide, her bloodied bugles blew.
Sarranda paid this sound no heed, hoofing softly on the dew;
Her horde had carved a way for her, a pathway straight and true.
Again the bugle begged for aid, and again she paid no heed,
Again she marched on towards the end, to reach her bloodied creed.
A shout rang out in silence; and again did the vampiress plead;
But words alone fell on deaf ears, as Sarranda spurred her steed.
'Fool!' she cried to Belladona, 'Fool you are and more!
I've older allies that far surpass, those of the Demon Whore.'
Geh'shya the dragon banked the clouds with a fierce and mighty roar,
And Belladona climbed atop, landing on the distant shore.
The palace ruins lay ahead, the towers broken all around,
The turrets blasted on themselves, the grasses burned and brown.
And here, Sarranda heels her steed, and here from it, steps down,
And here she throws back hooded cloak; on her head rests Ashtan's crown.
From the city all around, comes a murmured, wicked din,
As Sarranda ascends above the palace, her face, an evil grin.
Softly to herself she speaks, as she gazes with chagrin;