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The Rogue King
Topic Started: Jul 25 2012, 01:48 AM (425 Views)
Balmung6
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This is an old prologue to a story I wrote ages ago. If people express an interest, I might keep it going.




Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by magic. Not everyone had it, but a lot of people did, and with the help of magic, the kingdom flourished. Now, this kingdom was not ruled by one single king, but several, each owning a fairly large amount of territory in the kingdom. Each kingdom came to specialize in different types of magic, developing it more and more as time passed. But as everyone’s skill with magic grew, jealousy of each other’s power arose, and many a thief was sent to steal scrolls detailing how to use the new magic. For years, every kingdom kept it’s vaults locked tight for fear of losing the one thing they held above the other kingdoms – their depth of skill in their chosen branch of magic. After a long decade of scroll stealing and swapping, the Kings agreed that they would make a pact at the Field of Green, a field blooming with every type of plant known to man, tended by magic, to agree to respect each other’s scrolls and magical secrets. However, this treaty only held up for about 4-5 years before the Kings started to itch to get their hands on new magic again. But this time they were less subtle, and used brute force instead of magic. Many parties of battle mages were sent to attack other nations, and soon a war broke out. Not in the usual sense – there were no massive armies clashing into each other with steel and fury, but closer to series of small attack parties sent to send messages and warnings, for the Kings had the manpower for an army, but each knew that if he was so foolish as to send out an entire army, the other Kings would consider him too powerful and might even band together to defeat him and remove him as a threat to their power. But as a result of these smaller-scale attacks, a new career arose from the dirt and dust – Rogues. Spellcasters whose allegiance belonged to the highest bidder and rarely shrank from any task. They became widespread and rather popular – sending a Rogue made it easier to hide who had sent the Rogue in the first place, as sending a royal battlemage of the nation would be rather revealing to whomever he met. Different rogues specialized in different magics, and each one, if picked, was selected for their skills that matched the job needed to be done. But one Rogue in particular stood out from the rest. His powers didn’t seem to fit into any category - none previous came close to his. He had an odd selection of clothing on him that drew the eye – a tall, soft cloth hat of thick blue and white horizontal stripes, a jacket with a collar instead of a hood that had spiky dark grey fur on the ends of the collar, hem, and sleeves, dark pants of a loose material, almost like cargo pants minus the pockets, and shoes that were white on top and black everywhere else save for a dark blue stripe running down both sides of the shoe. His hair was long, to the shoulder, and the ends tended to curve away from his head, making the sides and back of his head covered in soft, brown spikes of hair. What made him really stand out, though, was his weapon – an electric guitar, but with a few tricks of his own added, the base of it blue with white on one side, and a blade built into the end, replacing part of the guitar itself. He was eccentric by any means, but to his friends and himself, he was only known…as Blitz.




He cursed as another droplet of water splashed on the back of his neck. Once again he regretted not bothering wearing a jacket that had a hood on it, but hey, vanity has a price, and that price was a hood. Still, he hated caves like this. Caves in general he liked – room to explore, things to find, beasts to fight – but not these drippy, water-logged caves, spires of rock splashing water down the back of his neck every 60 seconds. He could never remember whether the ones on the ceiling were called stalactites or stalagmites, and right now, he didn’t care – right now they were just stalag-mighty annoying to him. He sighed and kept going, his black sneakers, a blue line running down either side – sneakers which he thought of as clodhoppers, since they had soles so thick and heavy that he could probably knock a guy out with one kick – splashing through the various puddles strewn about the cave floor. Passing through a narrow opening, he emerged into a large open room, and no drippy rocks, he noted with a smile. As he walked, his footsteps echoing in the empty space, it crossed his mind that it was rather strange that no water or rock protrusions in here at all. Looking around, there was what looked like the bases of rocks like the ones farther back in the cave, as if they had been broken off – an earthquake, perhaps? The degree to which the break was clean disturbed him, but he kept going. At the far end of the cavern, there was a door with inscriptions along the door’s edge and in a circle around the handle. Moving closer, he noticed that the inscriptions were glowing faintly, a gentle, pulsing green. Definitely a guard spell, he thought. He raised one hand, clothed in a glove with the fingers and thumb cut off and a square cut away on the back to reveal the skin on the back of his hand, and pressed his palm against the door, sending a pulse of energy into it. The inscriptions glowed bright for an instant, then swiftly faded to black.

He smiled, then turned as the sound of grinding stone emitted from behind him – a circle on the floor, the same color as the inscriptions, opened the rock within the circle and another floor of rock rose up, carrying a beast unlike any he’d seen before. It was a big brute, resting on its feet and knuckles of its long arms, coated in brown fur from the waist down and built like an ape. The upper half, however, was made of solid crystal the color of jade, with pointed ears sticking above its head, maroon slits for eyes, and teeth that were stained a deep purple, also made of crystal. Leaning forward on its knuckles it opened its mouth and roared long and deep at him, the sound erupting echoes throughout the cave. Well, that explains the lack of rocks in this cavern area, he thought grimly. As the beast lumbered across the room, he grabbed his hat, looking much like Dr.Seuss’ save for blue stripes instead of red, and reached inside, a moment later drawing out an object – a guitar, something that by no means should have even been able to fit inside that hat in the first place. Most fighters and mages had a sword to fight with – his, however, was his personal preference and favorite: his electric guitar, the G.W. Lyon 6-string by Washburn, the base a deep, rich, royal blue, though he just thought of it as his guitar. As the beast charged him, he jumped onto its shoulder and used it as leverage to leap behind him, whacking the beast upside the back of the head with the base of the guitar as he did. He landed and turned around to see the beast stumble for a moment, then spin around and charge at him again. As the beast charged, he gripped the neck of the guitar tighter, and a moment later the right-hand side of the base folded back to reveal a very sharp, iron-grey blade, his own addition to the weapon. As the beast got close, it raised its fist, then brought it down, making the warrior jump to dodge as it made a small crater in the stone floor. He landed lightly on top of the fist, then ran up the beast’s arm, aiming for the head. The beast shook its arm to dislodge the warrior, but he jumped and sent a light pulse of magic down the guitar’s length, making the blade split into many sections, then half moved left, half right, each section moving the opposite direction of the one before it, then spinning furiously – a magical chainsaw, and built into an electric guitar, no less. He brought the guitar down on the beast’s head between the right ear and the skull, the spinning blades cleaving and chewing through the crystalline beast with a sound like someone dumping a crystal chandelier into a wood chipper, slicing the beast’s right ear clean off, blue ichor pouring from the fresh wound as the ear hit the ground and splintered a few pieces off as it impacted the stone floor.

The beast, wounded, howled in a furious anger and whipped its other fist around in a round-house move, the warrior raising his guitar to block and still getting launched a fair distance across the room, landing nimbly on his feet like a cat. Whew, he thought, I better not fool around much longer with this beastie or I might get squashed flat. As the beast charged once again, he ran towards it as well, the beast showing surprise at the warrior's tactic for a moment before roaring and charging faster. As the beast neared, he swung his right fist across; intending to take the warrior’s head clean off, but the warrior had other ideas. As the beast swung, he dove and slid feet first under the beast, between its legs, giving the beast a good hard smash between the legs with his guitar as he passed – a cheap tactic, to be sure, but always effective in a pinch. As he got up and turned around, brushing stone flecks and dust off his jacket that he was rather attached to – tall collar around the back, no hood, black in color, with black, spiky fur around the collar, edges, hem and cuffs – he looked over to see the beast on one knee and resting on one knuckle – obviously the warrior’s tactic had paid off, more noticeable when the beast turned slowly around to show a large purple bruise forming between its legs, making the warrior wince.

“Oooh, sorry about that, dude,” he said as he smiled and pointed his guitar at the beast, walking towards the inscription-trimmed door, “But you attacked me first, remember?”

The beast lurched unsteadily to its feet, not looking so good – blue ichor dripping down the side of its face and a large purple bruise between its legs – but leaned forward and charged once again, a howl escaping its lips – at a higher pitch than before, the warrior noted with a sly grin. He ran towards the door, his black jeans flapping in the wind from his movements, a symbol for light in gold on one leg near the cuff and a symbol for dark in a deep, rich purple on the other side of the other leg. He screeched to a halt, looking at the beast charging towards him, then grinning and slamming his foot down – on the end of the crystalline ear he had chopped off earlier, flipping it into the air. He swung around, bringing the guitar around his body to smash it across the room, the pointed tip of the ear working against its original owner as it pierced the beast’s chest and out the other side, the beast giving a gurgling growl, blue ichor pouring from it’s wounds and mouth, before rolling up its eyes and collapsing face-down on the floor with a loud crunch as the bottom part of the sawed-off ear was broken under it’s weight. The warrior grinned at his success as blue ichor pooled around the beast, then sniffed and waved a hand in front of his face.

“Woo, that stuff stinks somethin’ fierce!” he muttered.

He turned swiftly at the sound of a click behind him, guitar at the ready, but lowered when he saw what it was – the door opening, a few inches ajar. He walked over and pushed the door open with his guitar carefully, revealing a small room with a pedestal with a blue, soft light shining on it. He approached warily, turning swiftly as the door shut behind him – no handle on this side either. Looks like I’m stuck until I figure this room out, he thought with a spark of irritation. As he neared the pedestal, the light brightened until he had to shield his eyes, and when it dimmed and he looked, a blue woman was floating there. She had azure blue skin, flowing hair of a deeper, richer blue down to her waist, and eyes the color of a light indigo, and had a light blue tail as well. Her body was rather shapely as well – easy to tell since whatever force had summoned her hadn’t bothered to clothe her before sending her here. She looked at the warrior with a smile, showing hints of both power and mischief. She’s kinda cute, he thought with an inward smile. Her affinity for blue was a bonus in his book – having azure blue eyes himself, though his long hair was light silver, he liked her color choice. Then she spoke, her voice like a soft bell:
“Well done on reaching this place, warrior – you are the first to ever defeat my guardian and reach this place.”
The warrior grinned. “I can see why, he was a strong beastie, to be sure. But tell me, miss – who are you?”
The woman smiled that mischievous smile again. “I am the keeper of the hidden power that resides deep in this cave, which you have so bravely explored.” The warrior smiled and tipped his hat briefly at the compliment. “If you so desire, I can grant that power to you – having bested my guardian, you have earned the right.”
The warrior nodded and held out his guitar. The woman held a hand out, palm up, and a blue orb of light formed, glowing faintly before floating across and dropping into the guitar, sending a ripple of light across the base and up the neck.
“Granted.” Said the woman, “You now have the ability to add the power of water to your magic and attacks whenever you please.”
The warrior grinned. “Nice!” He pointed the guitar at the far side of the room and focused for a moment and a second later an orb of water shot out of the guitar’s base, hitting the far wall hard enough to crack the rock in a few places. He grinned again. “Nice power you’ve got there, miss. It’ll come in handy.”
She smiled. “You desired my power and I gave it – you earned it.” Then her smile turned more mischievous and she floated a little closer to the warrior, her tail swaying side to side gently. “But you’re not the only one with a bit of ‘desire’ this day, mortal,” she said, noting his muscular frame, his strength obvious to anyone who looked at his chest or arms. “How about staying a little longer and setting your new power aside for now? It’s been many centuries since I had a mortal all to myself.” As she spoke, her tail moved around and brushed along his arm slowly. The warrior chuckled – she was quite voluptuous and unclothed to boot – but he pushed her tail gently aside with his guitar. She pouted, her bottom lip sticking out - making her look even cuter - and said. “Oh, you’re no fun at all.”
The warrior laughed and said. “Sorry, miss; I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to pass for now.”
The women tilted her head slightly, curious. “I wonder now, mortal – just who are you?”
The warrior grinned and swung his guitar over his shoulder, holding it by the neck. “Who, me? I’m just a guy named Blitz.”
Edited by Balmung6, Jul 25 2012, 01:51 AM.
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