I'm trying to get back into uploading to MOCpages again as I really should put my pics up here as well as on Flickr. This is the prologue to my GCV story in the LCC.
About this creation
News of the new 'Queen' Galainir's treachery was moving around Loreos like wildfire. Erathor was travelling to Illicia in secret, not Mor-Reni as he'd originally planned to. With the so-called 'Queen' intent on ruling all Roawia with an iron fist, Lord Tathann had sent a message to Erathor instructing him to avoid Mor-Reni. The war-meeting that would precede the hopeful recovery of the Sword of Arondor was to be held in utter secrecy.
With this in mind Erathor had left Mor-Reni with his men and was now on his way to Illicia. They were taking special care not to be seen by anyone, especially those soldiers in black and red.
"Halt!" Erathor ordered ten men to follow him to a body that lay at the side of the dusty road.
"What happened?" asked Dag, Erathor's standard-bearer.
"He's been wounded badly, by the looks of things." The man's grey hair was matted with blood, blood that appeared to be fresh.
Suddenely the old man's eyes fluttered open.
"Help me, good Loresii," he croaked.
"Of course," Erathor replied. "How far away is your home?"
"It's over there." A gnarled finger pointed to a small tower not far to the south. Erathor's men waited cautiously as their lord gathered up the body.
"Here we are, my lord," Dag said as they approached the tower. "It seems deserted."
"Or in the hands of enemys." Erathor looked around. "Be on your guard," he told the ten who accompanied him.
The door to the tower was locked, but the wounded man produced a key from inside his robes that unlocked the door swiftly. They passed through into an open courtyard, in the centre of which grew a peaceful green tree.
"Through that door." Erathor went the way the man said.
Stairs reached the stone floor in front of them, and it was up these that Erathor went. He listened carefully, always on his guard.
"Elsa," the man suddenely moaned. "Are you here, my wife?"
"Quiet!" Dag hissed, but the man called again.
"Elsa!" He staggered to his feet, not heeding Erathor's warning.
"Here I am," a sinister voice growled. An armed soldier wearing the red dragon of Galainir appeared on the steps above. All it took was a single swing of his axe to cut the poor man's head from his shoulders. More soldiers came up behind him.
"RUN!" Erathor called, and his men turned back the way they'd come.
The dragon soldiers closed in behind as Erathor's men fled into the courtyard. Some were overtaken and killed, but most fought back valiantly. The dead man's head rolled out of the door, a sickening sight. The axe-wielding savage ran up to Erathor, his weapon lifted high. The lord cut with Shard and the smile was wiped off the dragon soldier's face as he fell down dead.
"MOVE!" Erathor yelled above the noise. "GET OUT!" He and his brave Loresii men threw open the outer door and ran towards their companions, who themselves sprinted ahead.
A tired and worn Erathor sat down against a tree, removing his helmet and letting the cool breeze blow over him. He and his men had escaped the soldiers, but none had expected the cruelty those men could show. That old man was innocent, a victim of needless hate. Erathor would arrive at Illicia as fast as he could, but he wouldn't neglect any other Loresii along the way.