bretstory1

Sounds of clashing steel and blood shrieking cries filled the air as the pale moonlight dimly shone off the blood stained plates of the Bretonnian knights. Gaston narrowly avoided a wicked slash aimed at his chest, instead catching him just beneath the shoulder. The blade tore through the interlocking chain rings and bit deep into his flesh as blood sprayed forth into the air. Clutching his teeth and ignoring the acute pain, Gaston thrusted his own sword deep towards the Dark Elf. It was an ill aimed blow, for it both lacked power and precision. Yet it succeed in scaring his opponent, providing Gaston the few vital seconds to pull away and regather himself. The chaos of battle surrounded him. Cries and anguish of familiar voices raced into his head. Just infront he saw Sir Flen felled by a lithe jab, puncturing both his armour and his chest. To his right Sir Donald, a veteran of many battles, a Knight of the Realm lay dead, with a host of wicked black feathered arrows protruding from his chest.

For a brief moment Gaston was lost in thought, almost frozen with despair and fear. His wound seemed to sear and burn while sweat and blood drenched his armour. Fatigue and tiredness seem to flow into every part of his aching body. His muscles felt numb, depraved of any strength that was left in him. His thoughts raced forward and fear momentarily overcame him. He imagined his own death, with a long sharp blade so favoured by the Dark Elves, piercing his chest while standing over him was a proud Dark Elf warrior, his eyes full of hatred and malice. He thought about his family, his father stern and proud Baron of Agen, his mother, kind and loving, his sister, now in Altdorf, studying in the arts of magic. He imagined them all, dressed in black, mourning for his loss as he lay in his coffin, waiting to be buried within the tomb of St Agen, where his fore fathers and ancestors were laid to rest. He wondered how they would all be like after his death, whether they'll remain the same or change. How long would he be remembered and for what? These thoughts raced into his mind, clouding his senses, filling him with despair and doubt.
"Dying isn't so bad," Gaston thought grimly "We've all got to die some time and I have been given the chance to die in battle…" However he knew in his heart that he feared death, he feared suffering and he feared pain. He imagined his face just before his death, a spasm of twisted agony. "I'm going to miss Celes…my dear sister Celes…"
Gaston can still recall the times of their youth, where they played in the beautiful gardens of St Agen. Her bright red hair, her cheerful mood and her light hearted humour. He was never sad around her as she had always some how made him smile. Out of all his family, Gaston had loved her the most, and now all their affections could be ended in this one dark night. How he dreaded his present situation, on the beach head battling to survive. In his first battle after been named a proud Knight Errant, he was already wounded and battered. Indeed there was more marks on his shield and armour then the stains of his sword. "No !!! I must not fear ! May the Lady have faith in me" Gaston said to himself in a soft voice.

A bight spark of light snapped Gaston out of his thoughts. Indeed then did he realise the dangers that he was in. He was not dead, no not yet, but instead still on the beach, fighting for his life. The normally calm and peaceful beaches of L'Anguille was thrown into an utter state of chaos. The cool waters were stained with the warm blood of both the Dark Elves and the Bretonnians. Briefly he recalled the turn of events. After leaving the grail chapel of Agen, the host of the eighty odd knights began their march home, after paying their respects to the lady. They traveled by the beaches late in the night, hoping to reach St Agen before dawn. It was a dark night, with the moon hardly showing her face. So it was almost in complete surprise and shock that the knights of Agen and the Dark Elf raiders bumped into each other. Immediately fierce fighting broke out and Gaston was amongst the first to taste the bitter flavour of battle. He was still a youth of around 17 summers, medium build. His brown hair neatly tied in a short pony tail was now stained and dirty. His facial expression betrayed his appearance, that of a scared child clad in the mails of a knight.

Another spark of exploding light hurled several bodies high into the air, their screams lost in the din of battle. Gaston turned to see a lone figure, standing upon a slightly elevated hill to his right, over looking the small bay where the battle raged forth. Bright flashes shot from her hand and Sir Qunel and Sir Peram fell from their saddles. "I must reach her and stop her." Gaston thought determinedly. Slowly he began to make his way into that direction, finding renewed strength after his thoughts turned to the Lady. He was already unhorsed but pushed on towards the end rings of the battle, hoping to race up the sand dunes and to the hill. He knew the tales telling of the slaughters these Dark magic wielding ones are capable of.

Both sides were now firmly mixed into the fighting. Gaston found it hard to push his way through. It seems that the flow of battle now was swing towards the Bretonnians as the Dark Elves began to retreat into their dragon headed corsairs, anchored a few metres in from the beach. The knights pursued them and some of the dark elves, upon reaching the ships, began hastily climbing aboard. However Gaston's attention was now purely focused on the lone figure upon the hill. "I must stop her !"

Wavering his way though, he soon was in the clear as the knights poured into the directions of the three black sailed corsairs. A stream of arrows felled the first few knights as others pushed on, sensing victory. Suddenly a glimmer of light flashed. Gastons reflex saved him from the tip of a spear. Before him stood a Dark Elf warrior, clad in dark purple with dull chain mail underneath.
"You die now Bretonnian !" He hissed as his spear lunged forward. But this time Gaston was ready. Turning aside the spear head with his shield, Gaston hacked at the shaft, cleaving it in two, leaving the Dark Elf bewildered. Then with a swing arc he bought his sword to bear upon the Dark Elf. Almost stunned, the Dark Elf stood frozen as his head rolled off into the water. Dark blood erupted from his neck. Gaston stood equally stunned, his first kill…

With a shake of his head, Gaston raced towards the hill. Behind him, one of the black corsairs began to burn as the few remaining Dark Elves tried desperately to set sail from the wrath of the Bretonnians. Their small raiding numbers were no match for eighty odd knights of Bretonnia. Gaston continued onwards as bright flashes continued to rain upon the battle field. Nearing the figure, he realized that it was indeed a Dark Elf magic wielder, a sorcerer. She was clad in black, with a tiara of silver upon her head. Her fine black hair fluttered in the wind. Slowly Gaston advanced realising that she now too noticed him. Her pale, almost white skin shone dimly in the moon light, along with her pleasant features. Yes, she was fair, fair and beautiful. She held none of the savagery and hatred of the Dark Elf warriors, but shone with beauty and majesty. Her youth evident, as she struck Gaston to be no more older then himself. Her dark blue eyes probed Gaston as he advanced cautiously. Slowly she backed away. Towards the edge of the hill where beneath her the soft waves tossed about. Upon her forehead, almost engraved was the symbol of a lotus, small but evident, almost shinning with an unearthly light.

Suddenly she raised her right hand and began to chant in a language unknown to Gaston. Almost instinctively Gaston raised his shield and braced himself. A fiery blast of energy sprang forth from her hand, burning, racing towards Gaston. For a spilt second everything around him felt hot. Then the impact hit him. The heat became almost unbearable as Gaston was thrown back, tumbling down the path which he had climbed. Then everything went black before him. Had he been conscious, he would of seen the fireball reflecting off his shield and hitting the ground, causing an explosion that rocked the hill, and sending her falling, falling into the waves…

to be continued.......