Time for freedom.

[realms_creator]

This is just a little of what we have writing so far for our game. Please post your comment on it. Thanks..

If this is the wrong place sorry.. I am new here.

A Time of Freedom
   
   Six flags, all at the same mast, atop the highest castle structure man had ever built. Two flags of other races, the other four representing two knight orders, a library of combined magic's, and the banner flag of the strongest people in the land-the duchy of Rock Mornon. From the tallest towers, miles of roadways and village fires could be viewed. To the Archer Knights atop, the people were like ants coming and going from the fortress walls. The entire castle city was created from a foundry of rock deep within the keep's dungeon levels. A deep blue/grey colored stone that polished to a shine. Some had said that viewing the castle from the nearby mountains was like looking at a shimmering diamond in the sun. Spanning four miles across at every side, with walls 500 ft tall, this would have been a diamond like no other created.
   Hundreds of people lived just within the "city entrance", which was at the eastern gate. The gate looked as if it were the entrance of a giants keep. The gate doors standing 15 ft thick, and over 500 tall each, these could not just be opened or closed. The gatekeepers of Mornon were an order of wizard dedicated to guarding the castle gates. The massive doors were closed by spell at dusk. After dark, smaller doors on all sides were opened for all who would want to enter. Many people wandered within and without of this castle system. The ruling parties of Mornon had built a shining example to the wild world around them; Mankind was destined to rule the worlds of the realm.
   As the years turned into decades, decades into centuries, mankind populated the areas outside the city walls. Villages spread beyond the eye of the castle watchtowers. People learned the language of friendly elvani, and dwarves soon learned of the special mines beneath the stone city of man. Trade was friendly and profitable for all. Alliances were formed with all who wanted them with man. Three hundred years of peace came and went like a summer breeze. But no season lasts forever...
   As man pushed into the swamps, the forests, and the thornwoods around the lands of Mornon, dark creatures were disturbed. Beasts of all creations and designs were fought, and removed from the areas that man settled, and claimed as his own. Not all Monsters are senseless beasts bent on death. Some that live in the realms have reasoning powers, and some have intellect that rival that of the human mind. These were the creatures that sought a dark place to hide. Somewhere to run from the onslaught of man. A place where man would not dare try to claim as "property of Mornon".
   Gathered together, at the brink of killing each other in the darkness, a voice in the shadows spoke to all. Though the beasts could not all understand each other, they heard and understood this voice. The lisping, whispering voice had spoken quietly to a few in the past. Some beasts had the voice's counsel all of their dark life. As the shaded voice unfolded a plan, all knew it had to be accomplished. All creatures put aside their loathing and hatred for each other and adopted a new oath; the enemy of mankind is my friend, and allies of mankind are my enemy. Blood alliances were sealed, and the voice in the darkened place kept calling more enemies of man into his audience.
   As smooth as still water, man continued to thrive. Warriors grew into farmers, and wizards grew into housewives and merchants. Both the holy knights of the true cross and the Knights of the Realm watched over the people of the land. As time passed swords were being beaten into plow shears. The Knighthoods became a title of status. All of the creatures that had plagued the land were conquered. There was only land to farm and families to raise. At this time, most of the people had moved into the outside "free" cities that had no great walls to block their view of the breathtaking world in which they lived. These towns and villages were scattered in all directions, and by this time, the "City cased in Stone" Mornon was no more than an ancient reminder of where man had been. Only a few still lived within the keep. Most of those who did live there were in training to be in service to the nobles of Mornon. These men and women would become knights, spell-casters, or otherwise work for the castle city.
   The autumn months faded into the winter season of the year. The winter festivals were soon to start, and this year was to be the biggest yet. It was the anniversary of Mornon. 375 years to the day, the final stone was set into the city keep. This year the elves and dwarvin nations were to be in attendance to celebrate as well. The banners were made, decorations were hung. The musicians of the land could be heard across the land, practicing their craft. The sweet smell mixture of oak and sugar was on the air everyday. As the festival approached, caravans of dwarves slowly moved in on the horizons. Many great leaders of all the nations came together and shared food and culture. The last seven days leading up to great festival of Mornon winded down into long shadows.
   The day of winter festival, and the "birthday" of Mornon had arrived. The location of the festival was selected so that it would be easy for all to find it. The grasslands just 5 miles northeast of the great keep itself. Just a breath away from the Dwarven Rivers and mountains. Also very close to the border of vistiani-the elvish lands, this was a perfect place for the ceremonies. Due to this location, anyone could see for miles in any direction. As the last day's festivities winded down into the long, orange rays of the late evening sun, all were enjoying food and drink. As the people wandered about, a new caravan of pilgrims were spotted crossing over the mountain pass of Doom thrix ginn.
   In the excitement that a new group of travelers were coming in, they sent for a group of boys to met them and welcome them into the festival. A group of teenage squires were sent as delegates to welcome whoever was heading toward the greatest festival ever held. As the boys raced toward the unknown group, they all flew the flag of peace on their saddle flags. At first hundreds peaked over the mountain pass. Then it was apparent that the numbers of pilgrims were well into the thousands. Both the suns of the realms were setting, and a wall of darkness was slowly washing over the land. The squires met the first wave of travelers.
   As they realized who was coming to the festival, a sense of fear swept over the boys. Some even grabbed at swords that they had not brought with them. Turning the horses sharply around to retreat, they knew the only chance they had was in getting back to the festival before it was too late. As they tried to escape, even the young boys understood what had happened. The monsters of the realms had not been destroyed. They had been waiting for the moment of opportunity. That moment was now. As the last rays of suns hid behind the beautiful walls of Rock Mornon, The Army of Man's Enemy flowed in from all directions onto the grasslands.
   The grunts and clicks of the leading Monsters signaled archers. Thousands of arrows lit the night sky. . Three of the five squires were killed instantly. The other two rode close to the neck of the horse, spurring the creature to ride faster than it ever had before. The next wave of arrows flew, and another squire was fatality struck in the neck. The last squire dropped to the side of the horse, hugging the saddle. Arrows pierced the saddle, and punctured the boy's leg, pining him to the saddle's horn. Out of arrow range, he rode into the festival area, screaming the only words that would come out," An army has topped the mountain pass! They come to kill us all".

   All of the Knights in attendance drew weapons, dwarves and elves alike stood up to answer the call of war. In the distance, the fires could be seen. Red eyes shined in the darkness. The monsters surged into the grasslands by the thousands. As a major battle was about to begin in the festival area, the great wizards in attendance gathered the commonfolk and traveled toward the only safe place known-Mornon. They traveled into the Thornwood trails, hoping to slow any creature who dared to follow. As raced through the paths, the earth wizards noticed some movement in the trees. Screaming out spells at the top of their lungs, huge barriers of earth rose up and created tunnels for the people to travel through, hoping to protect them from the unseen forces that waited in ambush in the Thornwood forest.
   The spell-casters leading the people back to Mornon did all they could, but this attack had been 300 years in design. Once the group of people got into the heart of the darken woods, waves of the living dead spewed up from the ground. They had been buried there in secret for many months, with instructions to rise up on this given night of terror. In response to the new threat, the wizards of the wind gathered the group of commonfolk together and opened a spell that allowed passage directly into the walls of Mornon. Surrounding the people, the group of wizards linked arms and casted the spell in unity, even as the undead were tearing them apart from behind, biting large portions of stringy muscles from their bodies. They all sent the people away, and the spell-casters that were left met their fate in the darkened thornwoods of Mornon.
The Knights of Mornon prepared for the first wave of attackers, all rushing at full speed across the plains of grass. Most of the ground forces were o-gor-aye, and the middle wave were gobuleans setting up archer positions 100 yds away. Steel flashed out of sheathes, elves disappeared into the shadow, as they too were preparing an archer line. As the battalion marched together, a thousand dwarves began to sing their battle hymn, beating their shields. In other battles, it had been said that the sound of the dwarves' battle march has frighten enemies away. This was a much different conflict. The enemy outnumbered the human forces two-hundred to one, thousands of black figures running toward the villages of man like army ants.

[Ben Lehman]

Umm...

This is a short story.  Well, part of a short story.

If you like, I could comment on it as a short story, but you'd have to give me something in exchange, as proofreading takes time, and is one of the few things that I am professionally skilled at.

However, if you want more replies, you will need to post the substance of your game, and not fiction.

yrs--
--Ben Lehman