Quest of Water and Steel (Gothos Rising)

King Alther looked over the countryside that was laid in ruin. The village was burning and bodies lay strewn across the grassland. It was a horrible altercation that he knew would have happened sooner or later. His mount, a strong, well-muscled war horse shifted under him. The king placed a gloved hand upon the mane of the horse to calm its restlessness. He was dressed in gray- green armor with the sigil of an eagle surrounded by a snake eating its own tail. The chainmail was darned in a few spots revealing the bandages his arch-healer; Demius dressed the wounds when the battle had fallen into a hush. The king rolled his shoulder to test the damage inflicted on his shoulder and arm that often held his sword. A shot of pain rolled through him and mulled in his chest like heady mead. The cloak wrapped around his shoulders was tattered at the threads and spattered with blood, and ash. The Northern Territory of the land called Gothos by his ancestor Ser. Kranos the Red Fire had come to this land with his family by boat so many centuries ago after being betrayed by his brother Lord Methadius of Blaugh Island. King Ursa, the legendary peacemaker king, was Ser. Krano’s grandson. His pride would not get the better of him on this day or any day for his knew that without the six mystical and powerful stones that protected his land and kept things in harmony he could not have crushed the rebellion in the Southlands. Reaching up he stroked his copper colored beard, the smoke hiding the great grief rising within him. His son the great and beloved boy prince, Robert Kalanus had been killed at the ripe age of fifteen and would never step into his robes and rule the land and keep the four territories at peace. There was always warfare, it was unavoidable but in his many years as king he had kept it to a minimum. The battle between the four territories was not the greatest threat at the moment. The Scythian race, beings that could be physically beautiful or terribly monstrous had shown themselves to be the biggest threat to the land. These creatures that drank blood from humans needed to be eradicated, but he feared it would not happen in his own time. The moon had reached its zenith and all had fallen quiet and hushed. Exhaling deeply his gloved hand patted his mount and started to trek down the hill back into the ruins of hell itself. The deep feeling of loss was palpable as he neared the huts that once held cheerful residence. A man of fifty-five and built like a warrior, the sight of such destruction aged him very quickly. His son had been laid to rest in the great hall of the largest building that had once been a tower keep. Upon the great table the body of the boy laid after being washed and dressed clothing for his cremation. To their tradition the funeral would occur as soon as possible, lest his spirit haunt the place restlessly. Anger and despair were the only emotions his royal highness could feel as he stood firmly before the front of the table gazing down at the lifeless form of his only son. Emily, his dearest wife and queen had passed from this world giving birth to little Robbie leaving him with two sons. He was grateful and blessed to have two heirs, but he had hoped his youngest would be named his successor instead of his brother Damon. The eldest coveted his position and ignored the knowledge stubbornly that his father might not choose him to be heir to the throne of Golthos. Alther tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that Damon was loved by his men who he trained and fought with and would be rid of the Sythians and all other enemies that would take up arms against him. The king could not though ignore the fact that Damon was also known for his cruelty and calculated nature. The prince would have surely killed his father if he wasn't so sure that he would inherit. For now the young man now eighteen would be content in his stone fortress of MacCoven, raising arms for battle as often as possible. It was common knowledge that the prince has called together a group of warriors called the Gogothian Knights that would mount a crusade to extinguish the demons that howled at night for human blood. It would of been a great victory for the king in his years that he knew were now short he wished vainly that he had been the one to take on these creatures and not burden his son with the responsibility. All he wanted now was peace that deep inside he knew would not come. Shaking his tired head he turned from the body of his dear son and called aside his Captain, Lucrus and gave him orders to send men out to secure the area and send a message to the Guards of the Great Stones of what has transpired. Not being a man of words he didn't want to draft the letter himself the anger still hot in his veins at the loss of his son. The blame could not go to these men and women who administered their gifts and energy into protecting the overall health of the land. No, they could only do so much, the Guard of the Stone of War had been the council at his ear and he knew he would not have succeeded without it. The stars were bright in the sky as he stood at the entrance of the great hall awaiting the arrival of his only living son and heir, Prince Damon. The King's eyes were fixed on the horizon when a group of his men arrived on their horses with a young man perched upon his black stallion, armor gleaming in the moonlight marred with the blood of the poor and wretched soul that had crossed his path in battle. Upon getting closer the prince dismounted from his horse and gave a formal bow to his father and king. The crown prince was not a tall man but not a short one either. His build was medium with broad shoulders and well-muscled arms under the gleaming armor. As his younger brother had been fair haired and skin, he was dark with tanned flesh from being out in the sun. His dark brown hair was pulled back over the nape of his neck and his eyes were the color of onyx. Even as he rose from his bow he surveyed his father with that cold and calculated blackness. The men always compared the prince to a hawk with a slight curve of his nose down taking up most of his face. "My lord king and father. The rebellion has been quelled. I have made sure that it will take many, many years before they can mount another attack on us “The young man said, the corner of his mouth turning into a smile that would cause a shudder through a weaker man. Alther stood firm acknowledging that even through his grief that his elder son had been the bringer of this victory. It didn't lessen the blow of the news he would have to impart on his child. "My son, your brother has fallen in battle. You are my only living heir and will rule when I die" he said, his voice tight with emotion he was trying hard to keep back. To his surprise he saw an expression he did not expect from the child of his linage. He could see a glimmer of joy rising in the other man's eyes. It will soon be mine! Damon thought as he stood there gazing at the graven face of his father, the high king. Try as he might he could not keep his joy at bay. Seeing that his father had picked up on these emotions with all of his might he forced himself to look contrite, hoping his father would think himself mistaken if he had seen it at all. "My poor, dear brother. He was not a man of battles but that of court and of wooing ladies “he said silkily. “His body at once must be burned, lest bad humors and spirits fill this hall “he added solicitously. The truth is he had always since childhood despised his little brother. The creature that not only robbed him of his mother by taking her life in birth, but would have taken the inheritance that was rightfully his! Now fortune had smiled on him and given him the opportunity he had prayed for. When he became king he would appoint new guards of the sacred stones who he could mold and manipulate to use their powers for his own ends. In their fealty to him they would make him a god among men. The prince kept his thoughts and intentions hidden guarded close to his chest as the next day came and standing next to his father, surrounded by his men as a large pile of wood was built as a funeral pyre and his brother's body was laid upon it. Even as the torches were put to the logs, Damon was already plotting out the assassination of his father. HIs father was a doddering old fool if he thought the knowledge of being the next in line would satisfy him. It was his luck that his brother had died in battle and would save him the time and coin carrying out a similar plan for him. Robert was always astute even as a child and knew of his brother's nature and was always quick to protect his father, but now all of the doors were open to him. Turning his head he looked at his father standing solemnly at his side noticing the lines in his father's face traced by grief. The man was in good health, but with the death of his dear wife he had not been the man he once was, and now with the death of his brother his father would be an easy target. Hiring an assassin would be not needed in this case. In this case it was only a matter of when and where. He planned to bribe on of the maids to drop a bit of poison in the king's goblet the old man slept and make it look like he died in his sleep overcome with the stress of battle and the loss of his youngest. Unable to help himself he smiled with his head bowed to hide it. Everything was going his way now. The only one who could of any weight in this was only an infant, a boy born by a village woman near their castle who was not legitimate. The woman named Eilan was greatly adored by his father and he planned on exiling her and the brat once he is king of the land. The prince turned his thoughts from his little half-brother and to the larger fish to fry. The Sythian beings who had once by legend been peaceful creatures, feeding on livestock were now humanities greatest enemy. Even now they encroached on the land like large bat winged monsters, swooping down when the sun goes down. They seemed fearful of the sun's rays and of fire. It was not enough; he would need to find a greater weapon against them. He hoped once he had the guardians under his sway he might discern this weapon. His fingers wrapped around the leather strap holding his sword in its sheath, stroking it lovingly with his forefinger as he watched the body of Robert burn away. It was seven whole years later that the king would die in his sleep. There were whispers that the circumstances were not nature, but no one in the court or in the palace could prove it. Damon, the Jackal as he was known by those who hated and feared him was crowned King of Golthos, lord of the Four Territories, and master of the land. After the great mourning of his father the new king's first order of business would be to cruelly exile his father's mistress Eilan and her son to the barrens of the Western Territory. This was the place rumored to be the home of the Sythian creatures. The king hoped that the simpering girl and her child would die out there if not from the beasts then from starvation. The new royal would unwittingly let his future enemy and destroyer through his grasp in his arrogance. At a later date his half-brother would walk right into his hall and dispatch him on the sword forged by his enemies. For now he gloated at his cleverness as his wife sat in the corner sewing, praying for an heir that would never come. The Golgothian Knights would wage their war on their supernatural foes and new guards of the stones would be trained to take the place of the predecessors who would pass on at the sacred place called Dragus Falls.