The Brothers Trilogy(A story I am writing)
I have been writing a story of late and have been posting it on other websites. Its a Fan Fiction for those who know a little about Warcraft and DotA.
The first act consists of about 35 MS word pages..
Get Act 1 Here
Now I’m working on act 2, here are just chapters so far. I will update it here as well as on http://www.dotastrategy.com whenever there is a new chapter up.
Act 2 – The Elders
Chapter 11 – Soul Eclipse
“No”
“I WILL join them, brother,” Terrorblade flexed his fingers threateningly. Small bolts of energy burst forth from them, crackling menacingly.
“They are a vile race, feeding off life and thriving on evil. Heck, they are not even from this world! How can you-” Magina was cut short as he jumped to the right, narrowly evading a bolt of crackling green energy.
Magina and Terrorblade were standing facing each other in a narrow rocky pass tha led out from the small village they lived in. Lightning played across the sky, flashing as the rain came down in unforgiving torrents.
Each flash of lightning illuminated the sickly green landscape around the two. Though a resistance had already been formed to stand up against the most monstrous threat Azeroth had ever seen, the Burning Legion continued on relentlessly, never stopping for more than a day, they had already wiped out all life in almost half of Azeroth.
The village that the twins lived in since they were young was among those that were to be destroyed next by the Legion..
In another two days the Legion would be at their throats.
Lots of people had already fled or joined the Resistance. Magina and his family were one of the last left in the empty village.
“Resistance is futile. You are only prolonging the inevitable. The Legion Will conquer the world. Why fight when we can join..and live!” Terrorblade spat, eyes gleaming manically. “Bah, you would never understand.”
Magina hung his head and remembered how it was before. His brother had never had this insane urge for power and had always stood together, whether it be fighting bullies or chopping firewood.
Then, Magina realised. His brother he knew was long dead. All that was left was an insane shadow of his personality. He would have to kill him..
Looking up with tears in his eyes, Magina stared long and hard into the eyes of his brother. They were so filled with hate, evil, envy, a raw thirst for power.
“You have to end this madness Brother!” Magina pleaded.
“Madness!Madness!!!?” Terrorblade laughed, and laughed long and hard.
Suddenly, he hurled a fireball at his brother.
The fireball was too fast for Magina to evade. It made contact with him straight in the chest.
The impact of the blast sent Magina sprawling back.
“Nothing will stop me! Not even You!” roared Terrorblade. As he raised his hand and turned to leave, thick ropes of pure magic bound themselves around Magina’s limbs, rendering him immobile.
The entire scene started to blur and warp. A kaledeiscope of dizzying colors and lights started swirling around at a maddening pace, accelerating.
Suddenly, it stopped swirling and formed a clear image once more.
Magina was once more facing his brother. Squaring off each other, they circled like lions ready to pounce if their opponent faltered even the slightest.
Both of them looked older now, Magina had grown more muscular and was strongly built. He had his blindfold on and was holding his signature curved moonblades. His hair was long and his eyes danced with energy and power.
Terrorblade’s transformation had been far more drastic than Magina. Huge leathery wings now protruded from his shoulders and foot-long ebony horns jutted out from his forehead. His entire body was tatooed with sickly glowing green demonic words of power.
Terrorblade was truly a creature of the Legion now.
Oblivious to the raging fight around them, they continued circling.
Suddenly, they pounced at the same time.
As they were about to make contact, the scene went white.
Magine started. His vision refocused to see the entire Alliance Council looking oddly at him.
“Are you alright, Lord Magina?,” Purist Thunderwrath looked at him, clearly concerned.
“Um yeah, I mean, Yes, I am fine Lord Thunderwrath. I have been dwelling in the memmories of the past a lot of late. Now, what were we talking about?” Magina asked, composing himself back into his usual self.
“If you say so, Lord Magina, if you say so..” Purist’s voice trailed off, clearly unconvinced.
A few months had already passed since the battle at Natharion.
Magina’s ascent into the higher echleons of the Alliance had been swift. His power, thirst for knowledge, talent and smoothness had elevated him to his current post. A master mage in the council. His good looks also didn’t hurt.
Though his title was a Master Mage, Magina was not much of a mage after all. In fact his real title was the Anti-Mage. His magics revolved around battling other kinds of magic and destroying them. Mainly those that were practiced by ordinary mages and necromancers, countering and using them against the casters. This was what made Magina such a great asset to the Sentinel Alliance.
That of course, did not mean that Magina was any less accomplished in the other magic arts. In fact, he was amazingly adept at normal spellcasting and also knew a bit on necromancy.
Still, when times were dire, he still reverted back to his trusty moonblades which had never failed to cut a swath through the enemy lines and destroy all in its path.
The problem with Magina of late was his learnings were slowing down, there was little else to learn and he hated that very fact. His powers were maxed and he found even if he tried, he could no longer strengthen his powers.
This also had given an excuse to some of the other jealous council members to question his authority and suggest they got someone new to replace him.
Even now, he could see the looks of triumph on their wicked faces.
“Well, we asked you if you think the Scourge is really trying to bring back the Burning Legion and their ruthless leader, Sargeras.” Purist paused to think.”And how they would accomplish such a feat.”
“The only way they can do it is to Summon one of the Higher Demons. Only a Higher Demon will be able to create a portal big enough for more of their kind to come through and pass the barrier between our worlds. It only takes one. Though, so far my scouts have reported that the Scourge’s attempts have failed so far, they might-” Magina suddenly stopped.
His vision revealed an anomaly. The fabrics of spacetime and magic leylines were suddenly warping and bending out of shape.
The other magi in the council also felt it. They looked up and stared blankly at each other.
Furion stood up and addressed the council. “As some of you may have noticed, something ..powerful briefly affected the magic in our world.” Furion gazed around at his fellow council members.
“The Scourge have suceeded. Dramis is here.”
Chapter 12 – A summoning
Master Acolyte Dasteras surveyed his lesser acolytes as they made their final preparations.
Most of the acolytes were busy drawing the summoning circle. Summoning a demon of such power was no easy feat. It required a reinforced summoning circle that was drawn with the blood of an innocent.
The acolytes worked silently. Only the murmuring of ancient sealing charms could be heard as they inscribed runes of all shapes in the inner and outer rings of the circles. The pentacle that was drawn did not, in fact look anything like a pentacle at all. The pentacle was traced with secondary and tertiary lines which were made of the ground dust of a hellflower.
A single circle with odd inscriptions criss crossing its tangents was carved in the stone floor around the pentacle.
Lord Dasteras eyed their work, pacing in circles like a vulture, eyes on the huge pentacle. Despite his wizened visage, his eyes were still full of the spirit he had when he first joined the acolytes. They darted to and fro, scanning the inscription lines for any mistakes.
A single error could prove fatal to the demon OR to anything(or anyone) in the vicinity of the spell. Lord Dasteras expected perfection from his hand picked summoners.
Suddenly, he stopped and eyed a strange symbol that sat oddly in a space that was meant to be left blank.
His head slowly rotated to face his acolytes. They were silently watching his gaze, their faces and expressions obscured under thick hoods.
“And what, may I know, is the symbol of Binding doing in the empowering circle?!” Dasteras roared.
The acolytes kept their silence, watching Acolyte Dasteras. Among acolytes, it was a known fact that Lord Dasteras’ tempers could be fatal to them.
“Who inscribed it!?” Dasteras took a step closer, malign lined his features.
“It is I, My Lord.” one of the hooded figures stepped forth. “The binding symbol is to regulate the energy supplied by our empowering circle. It also fuctions to control the hellish energies coming from where we summon Dramis.”
Lord Dasteras rubbed his chin as he thought of the implications.
It was ingeneous. This young acolyte had potential….
“Very well,” Dasteras nodded in approval, “Continue your work, bring the sacrifice, light the flames”
The acolytes moved instantly, lighting the final candles and adding the final herbs into the incense bowls, they made way for the final ingredient, the sacrifice.
Screaming and squirming, a cuffed and blindfolded girl was brought by one of the acolytes into the room. Muttering a short phrase of power, the acolyte holding her sent a bolt of green energy into her.
The girl stopped struggling and walked calmly into the middle of the circle. She sat cross legged on the cold stone floor, parellel with some incantation lines.
“Let the summoning, begin.”
The acolytes begun chanting and a sickly green hue enveloped the room.
***
Abbadon got up from his crouched position and wiped the blood off his blade. The frostmourne was not anything like any other blade, it had a taste for blood.
More a living thing than a weapon, the frostmourne was like a parasite, taking control of the wielder and crying for blood. That was the core of the frostmourne’s chilly powers. The souls that it had taken are stored for eternity within the very matter of its blade, empowering it.
And today, the frostmourne had plenty of it. Abbadon and his troops had just cut down the remaining footmen and knights that were making their last stand. Their victory did not come without a price, however. Many undead ghouls and even the most prized frost wryms had been slayed in the great battle.
The battleground lay dotted with the remains of the combatants. Enough to form a whole new army, provided his remaining necrolytes had the strength. So many of them had been killed that he was not even sure they had the strength to even walk.
He would let them rest. They were still humans, after all, still attached to the needs of life. Technically, Abbadon too was still human, yet he required no sustenance. His frostmourne was all he needed.
As he scanned the battlefield, he saw the remains of Kel Thuzad. A lich of that calibre would not go to waste. He would be reincarnated…but not here. The birth(or re-birth) of a lich required the power of the frozen throne and that was back at Northrend.
“Naix, inform the rest of the army, spread the word, we are to set up camp here while we recuperate and the necromancers regenerate their strength.” Abbadon looked towards Fort Natharion,” When we are ready, we raid the defenceless Fort and capture it.”
Naix nodded furiously, then pausing a while to think, asked simply, “Food? Naix hungry..”
Abbadon laughed hard. “Yes…there will be food..plenty of it.”
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