Attack on Dragon Manor [Plot]
Attack on Dragon Manor [Plot]
1 month 1 week ago - 1 month 1 week ago
King Kalil stood over the war table, his clawed hands resting heavily on its edge. Beside him, Commander Noctis traced defensive lines along the map while Knightmaster Edgar spoke in clipped, firm tones about choke points and fallback options. The trio debated intently—every strategy weighed with the same solemn calculus: lives spared versus ground held.
Then came the sound. A scream not of voice, but of the sky itself being ripped open.
Sirens wailed. The very air shuddered.
A sudden wind hurled itself against the stone walls of Dragon Manor as cerulean rifts burst open above the courtyard. From them poured horrors—winged Fae with glassy eyes, elemental wraiths of fire and ice, and delicate constructs pulsing with ancient magic.
Soldiers in the courtyard barely had time to rally. They raised shields and drew blades just as the Fae descended.
Kalil didn’t flinch.
He turned calmly to his brothers-in-arms. “It’s time.”
Noctis and Edgar nodded, as if they’d been waiting for this inevitability. They drew steel with a synchronized hiss.
Kalil gestured to a nearby runner. “Send the missive.”
The soldier saluted and vanished into the chaos.
Kalil turned back to his warbound brethren. He raised one clawed hand, a wolfish grin splitting his face as his eyes burned with warfire. The claws extended like drawn sabers.
“Kill them all.”
And then—the battle began.
Kalil, Noctis, and Edgar like the living embodiment of war-stories, where myth meets blood and steel. Fae and soldier clashed steel-on-steel, while spells burst like stars across the battlefield. Undead forces phased in through shadow and smoke to assault the invaders.
From within the manor's grand library, Prince Connor emerged.
The alarms wailed around him as soldiers streamed past in frantic motion. He walked with the unhurried grace of a man perusing a garden, using his ornate staff more for posture than support.
As he reached the courtyard, a screeching Pixie dove toward him, teeth bared.
Without breaking stride, Connor flicked the end of his staff forward. The Pixie burst into dust.
There.
He moved through the battlefield like mist through trees, effortless and untouched. He sidestepped corpses with a dancer’s poise, keeping his white robes nearly pristine, save for a single crimson bloom that speckled the hem.
A roar thundered through the night—raw, primal, furious.Kalil.The King tore through a blue veined Faerie, tearing out her throat with his teeth, blood glistening down his chin. As the corpse fell, Kalil caught sight of Connor, untouched amidst carnage.
He smiled.
And plunged back into the slaughter.
Pixies screamed. Faeries howled. Kalil ripped them apart with claws and teeth, a beast made flesh. Connor followed, dispatching enemies with surgical flicks of his staff, never once hurried.
Then, once more, the sky screamed.
A massive rift tore open. Time slowed. Silence pressed down.
Two figures stepped through.
Eryndor—tailored to perfection in a deep red suit that seemed woven from blood and smoke. And Ysmira—her staff humming with coiled, untapped power.
They said nothing.
Ysmira raised her staff high and brought it down with thunderous finality. A pulse of shimmering energy exploded outward. As it passed through the battlefield, Fae and construct alike crumpled mid-motion. No death cries. No resistance. Just… collapse.
A second wave followed.
Eryndor lifted one clawed hand—purple with crackling energy—and sent his own ripple through the air. The fallen twitched. Then their eyes opened, blazing red.
They stood again.
But now, they were his.
The battlefield fell deathly still.
Kalil, panting, dropped half a dismembered Pixie from his blood-drenched claws. He turned to Eryndor and Ysmira, chest rising with adrenaline and something ancient in his gaze.
He laughed—low, almost like a growl—and said, “I knew you were powerful…”
Eryndor walked toward him just as Connor stepped beside the King, his white robes still untouched by gore.
“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” Eryndor said smoothly, sweeping his claw toward the smoldering ruins of the battlefield. “You called. We answered.”
Kalil grinned, spattered in blood and firelight. “I never had any doubt.”
Eryndor returned the smile.
And the battle was done.
Then came the sound. A scream not of voice, but of the sky itself being ripped open.
Sirens wailed. The very air shuddered.
A sudden wind hurled itself against the stone walls of Dragon Manor as cerulean rifts burst open above the courtyard. From them poured horrors—winged Fae with glassy eyes, elemental wraiths of fire and ice, and delicate constructs pulsing with ancient magic.
Soldiers in the courtyard barely had time to rally. They raised shields and drew blades just as the Fae descended.
Kalil didn’t flinch.
He turned calmly to his brothers-in-arms. “It’s time.”
Noctis and Edgar nodded, as if they’d been waiting for this inevitability. They drew steel with a synchronized hiss.
Kalil gestured to a nearby runner. “Send the missive.”
The soldier saluted and vanished into the chaos.
Kalil turned back to his warbound brethren. He raised one clawed hand, a wolfish grin splitting his face as his eyes burned with warfire. The claws extended like drawn sabers.
“Kill them all.”
And then—the battle began.
Kalil, Noctis, and Edgar like the living embodiment of war-stories, where myth meets blood and steel. Fae and soldier clashed steel-on-steel, while spells burst like stars across the battlefield. Undead forces phased in through shadow and smoke to assault the invaders.
From within the manor's grand library, Prince Connor emerged.
The alarms wailed around him as soldiers streamed past in frantic motion. He walked with the unhurried grace of a man perusing a garden, using his ornate staff more for posture than support.
As he reached the courtyard, a screeching Pixie dove toward him, teeth bared.
Without breaking stride, Connor flicked the end of his staff forward. The Pixie burst into dust.
There.
He moved through the battlefield like mist through trees, effortless and untouched. He sidestepped corpses with a dancer’s poise, keeping his white robes nearly pristine, save for a single crimson bloom that speckled the hem.
A roar thundered through the night—raw, primal, furious.Kalil.The King tore through a blue veined Faerie, tearing out her throat with his teeth, blood glistening down his chin. As the corpse fell, Kalil caught sight of Connor, untouched amidst carnage.
He smiled.
And plunged back into the slaughter.
Pixies screamed. Faeries howled. Kalil ripped them apart with claws and teeth, a beast made flesh. Connor followed, dispatching enemies with surgical flicks of his staff, never once hurried.
Then, once more, the sky screamed.
A massive rift tore open. Time slowed. Silence pressed down.
Two figures stepped through.
Eryndor—tailored to perfection in a deep red suit that seemed woven from blood and smoke. And Ysmira—her staff humming with coiled, untapped power.
They said nothing.
Ysmira raised her staff high and brought it down with thunderous finality. A pulse of shimmering energy exploded outward. As it passed through the battlefield, Fae and construct alike crumpled mid-motion. No death cries. No resistance. Just… collapse.
A second wave followed.
Eryndor lifted one clawed hand—purple with crackling energy—and sent his own ripple through the air. The fallen twitched. Then their eyes opened, blazing red.
They stood again.
But now, they were his.
The battlefield fell deathly still.
Kalil, panting, dropped half a dismembered Pixie from his blood-drenched claws. He turned to Eryndor and Ysmira, chest rising with adrenaline and something ancient in his gaze.
He laughed—low, almost like a growl—and said, “I knew you were powerful…”
Eryndor walked toward him just as Connor stepped beside the King, his white robes still untouched by gore.
“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” Eryndor said smoothly, sweeping his claw toward the smoldering ruins of the battlefield. “You called. We answered.”
Kalil grinned, spattered in blood and firelight. “I never had any doubt.”
Eryndor returned the smile.
And the battle was done.
Last edit: 1 month 1 week ago by Kai.
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