₦airaland Forum

Odunayomi96:
bring it on man

On the way boss of bosses

This is beauty at its best bro... Soar on!

What ya think good people?

Episode four coming your way soon.

Kurunmi now withdrawn from the highlight of the warring scene, sat upon his mount watching the heated clash as his men tackled their adversary, to give them a taste of their fierce aggress. The fight had lasted well over two hours, and none of the sides are willing to back down even with the evident ghastly backwash of the fight. The casualties of both forces are far too high, and with the inst wave of the fight, the strokes of cataclysm will eke even more.

After a long groak at the dreary scene, he dared a sidelong glance at Sir Ogele, who was equally scathe and swaddled in tourniquet as his aggressor; the Irawe general, after a friction in the heart of the field of honor.

"'tis high time I bring this to an end." He said. "Full many a heads are already fallen, I can't bear the sight of any further."

In reaction to his words, the maimed knight gave a quizzed look. "And what if the company over at the castle are yet to retrieve the lady? Verily this cause of ours will be all but naught." He argued his point.

The heretoch gave a feeble nod of his head to his line of reason, turning it over in his mind for fugitive minutes. "That's a point well made, but I think there's little margin to dally over such matters. We must follow through our laid plans with high hope with no regard to what ifs, no matter what."

"Hope thou wottest that our failure here, means a failure to crown and duty.?"

"Of course I do." He gave a reply with a half smile. "There's always a morrow to end this." He finished with a pat on his shoulder, beckoning on the band of arms men at hand to signal the retreat.

In no time, they sounded their shophar and other musical instruments in unison, the effect of which brought the Koso horde to an abrupt stall, and an instant disorderly retreat from the plains. They rid themselves of the carnage at once.

Seeing the enemy lines dissolved into a jumble of fleeing heads, one of the prominent men of the Irawe battalion, raced his mount to the General's side. "Permission to follow suit milord?" He demanded pantingly.

The General took his time, watching as the clutter of the opposition armies hightailed from the field. "Nay, we stand back." He said loud and clear.


King Gaa fixed his dark-haired chief of guards an icy look from his perch on his stone throne. Since the bedlam was hushed, the dolt of a being had kept rambling on how they had tried to thwart the progress of the Koso host by locking up every gates on every passageway in the castle, likewise how they had given a wild chase after their escape with the King's sweeting lady. At the end of it all, he had finished his stupid tale by admitting they had escaped from them on a close call. All in all, he had dared to tell him they had escaped with his object of love from the stronghold of his castle. What insolence!

"Take my avowal my king, we'll get her back very soon." He said with a bow and watched the king rose to his feet elegantly. On his face was writ an epos in disappointment of their failure, along with something else inhuman, something evidently plastered on that smooth face of his, now suffused with saffrony bile, like the spangled rayon robe he had donned.

The man felt uneasy at the sight of him in that remote world, quaking involuntarily on his feet. He knew not what he had done or say to umbrage him so much, but was full of wits as to the meaning to the King's countenance, the look upon his face promises naught favorable. Certainly.

"Verray." The king said with a pinch of sarcasm to his voice, striding toward the thunderstruck man briskly. "You must get her back." He added grimly, slipped a hand into his robe, and felt the warmth end of a pommel.

In a fleet, he withdrew a damascened dagger from his pocket, and with a lightning-speed buried its nose into the man's heart unerringly. He watched the man leaned into his thrust, felt the oozes of blood from the gash licking at his fingers, and retrieved the dagger from his chest.

He ignored the thud of his lifeless body as it collided with the ground, and shouted at the guards stationed about. "Get the dolt's stiff away from mine sight!" He bade them, and on instant, they high to his side, carrying the stiff away from the throne room.

Harchoredey:
A faithful follower,as long as am on nairaland

I promise to give you nail-biting account of our dear gallant knight.

Reading this wondrous piece of yours bring to mind the work of a fave writer 'Sarah J Maas' THRONE OF GLASS

Harchoredey:
I love the use of early mordern english as well as how it is set in the olden times

Am happy you do man... Hope you'll keep following?

Kindly give a review on this, please

I am a seed sown in a woman's womb
By time destined, I bud as spring's flower
With time gentle strides, I haste to my tomb
How then can I spend the bloom of my youth?
What good myself can before the hour,
When age will have me mirrored in gapped tooth?

If dying a must, and I fain to live
If I be weeped and to heaven return.
What history of me will the world believe
Sudden and sadly if pages be burn?

What on Earth can gladly my tale retold?
Dead, in my heir's soul I relive again
On blessed mother Earth here I remain,
Haply my tale be precious as a gold

Pardon my shortcomings folks, promise to drop as soon as i can

EvaJael:
Thanks dear. I'll check them out. Welcome. We'd be delighted to have you do a brief introduction

I'm Ayub by name, an aspiring being with no less than four novels to my credit, although none has been published yet on any platform. Only you sweeting people on NL are permitted the luxury to enjoy my stories.

"Lo, here comes the signal." One of the men-at-arms stationed at the battlement called to the attention of his mates.

"Bless you Ogunmola." Sir Alado said on sighting the signal call. He retrieved a horn from the pouch tied at his side, blowing smartly into it with precise mastery.

The blare of the bugle horn was winnowed thru and thru the castle. And at its call, the koso turms withinforth, foreknowingly sheathed their weapons, retreating at once through their former passing into the castle.

In swithe response, the guardsmen stunned by their queer actions gave a chase.


Two men slovenly dressed in a tatty cape shouldered their way through the crowded narrow street, lined at either sides with stores. The forme, was a man of moderate height, bugle saucer-eyes and sharp crooked nose. He had a spaniel of selfsame jet black color as his eyes collared at his side. And on the hither side, was his fellow, head taller than him in his twenties, or so he looked with his fine youthy expression.

"That was some stunts you pull out there lad." Quoth he, the first man.

The other took a draft from his bouget, ignoring the briny smell wafted about by the near gale from the seawater not far away from their position. "'tis fair to say we all did well." He said whisperingly, turning his head ever slightly hitherward the eastern sky, on whose domain the sun had burst in upon in full glare. Its glassy surface lustered in smoldering gold.

Now cloaked in the grimy apparel, both knights looked like just any churl tramping through the streets. They had shook off the company of biga and horses of the guardsmen dogging after them after their escape from the castle. It has taken a long span of fleeing, along with witful stalling to escape from the claws of death and doom.

They walked the final lap of their long walk to the dock, where a merchantman awaits them, squeezing their way through the thready traffic of the throngs going about the street, likewise averting the keen scrutiny of imperial guards patrolling the street.

Shortly afterwards, they found themselves crammed among the crowds swarming at the pier. The aura around the dock was laden with a matching of salinity and fishy smell.

"Noontide will be upon us soonly." Sir Alado pointed out as they made through the pier arch with a bunch. "Our host on the plains must well be retreating now I ween."

Sir Ogunmola gave a nod of concession to his remarks, watching as the surgy main hit the aft of the galleon docked upon the sea's glazed surface. "Now we have the lady away from the evil King. All's well that ends well." He said as they disappeared into the waiting arms of the large ship, knowing the voyage back to home soil will be a very very long one.

Harchoredey:
Very interesting story,following

Really delighted you find it thrilling

More coming ya way... Hold on and hang tight

To check out my works here on NL, kindly follow these links:https://www.nairaland.com/4451017/flash-fiction-collection

https://www.nairaland.com/4390225/supernaculars-renascence-sci-fantasy-novel

just2day:
It's not easy adapting an era one has not lived in and capturing the feel of it. The medieval times with its damsels, knights, Lords, castles, speech and violence though usually romanticized tends to be a compelling read. Nice to see someone tackling the less traveled paths here.

Funny thing to note, I read a medieval/sci fi book months ago where a Lord, his knights, vassals and peasants were whisked off into space. They end up having to adapt to tech and conquering a galaxy in their search to return home. You just happen to be writing both a...

goodluck

Thanks so much... Am happy it's a thrill for you

EvaJael:
Shontellybee
Infant
Princiology
Favouradeyemi6
Holarbolu
Kemistab20
Piercy
Nonnywhite
Skylard101

So these are the few monikers that don't look like the ones I used to know some months ago. I hope they reply our mention

Present ma'am!

Kindly say what you think of this piece folks

rachealfst, wizsoly, johnsown1, toshiba49ja, oly23, harameede99, dapo97, spdazzy, bibi294, chumzypinky, chizzymaris, olatex25, ikombe, dasilver20, michelle55, twinkiet, samyfreshsmooth, yungtemy, alamiendagash, sunshine46, boffinjay, babsopey, sirorubebe, adesina12, switup, nastynic, jagugu8li, tuhndhay, ekle, costal, hawlahscho, oladapxon, uniqueogo, skillful01, hormobolanle, cerewo, xolocious, yewandequeen, dtobs, 9pblive, eniqurl, roladiva, moscow0147, azeequeen and kentura

queen494 civilizedtyger sleepingqueen25 itsjezzy sheycrown dupsai yaronjos heirapparent cruzyteejay jaybee96 mrgudmood amikeem horlorlardaey kemam sexyfire911 kikiwendy neurojosh erock247 teekaycarter moonnstar negudugrace rayvelez xlozer timmyshot gamesound shekinah190 waacut elshberry bammylee002 iamdaquin01 bestie93 crislyn spiceybae holuwaphlexy gr8skillz virtuedagirl lildiamond seunnla cerowo kingsuave medrehab roastedcorn yemsy13865 snowboi360 hormobolanle jeedope hobbyheart mhizfavour juniho77 johncasey1 moyenii chinedubrazil sapy apostolate kendrickmykell slayer2 cindy1000 cbella brohimot royh mhizclair bankiev anneboyo2 lizzyparx lorlahlizzy dotwillis1 omomifamily patotelli thiannah observer3 mexzzy47 nikz marvin902 helenbee mhizterauto kayceerilyn iwakacome twinkle004 centitan kajsa08 babeflenz nickibeauty chillgist iralife tjpromise mancrimes oluwafeolami do4luv cynicgod queendaisy smartgenius10 kingphillip inkdbetty ksslib hidhris gracito smileing trggasg geektrovert matrycx osedagal qasar4life peppirina jey4all boywest1 drachel1993 folake25 lugar14 iheyhun connoisseur selimdeon kasey18 chigold121 erudite202 kayus621 kerr9 geosilye iamlynn lordshola billirayz augustinesilva ceecane2 hardeydun schlastica16 julietbae adfijem aries26 olueaseun15 dreyman21 virtueblazer harkinlowyeh gracyblaze donblzer10 ayokunmi24 mhizsuccess veevean0 amanda24 chinachris chara019 mexzzy47 chemicalreaction herosakin777 emerortj93 elshberry tomzz gotios latbons nerdychukz tijehi chigold121 mzposhberry90 tuhndhay brendy01 danyceo trendytessy hobbyheart lecdope okeyben10 itsandi jtofineme tripplexon biggysmolz oluwasheenah awalat172 steediamond antonineutron classicladyk moseph arabaribiti chiexcel retake89 authorityspeaks bensam2040 sleekhoyeen ultimategeneral officialflex stainlexxx tobymoore go4success kingzero lordpeckxy chinacriss ikechizoba obicoolnino fadahunsilegend seteejax optizzycute teebilion dammypat olori1992 ladybandie sussybae incredible2017

Divepen1, souloho, meneski, Erf, galacious1, chrisbaby24, stephengee12, Apollux, just2day, Larrysun.

What ya think good fellas?

Await more folks

The beauty about Cornwall➖a residential district on the fringe of Oberon has got little to do with its striking craggy scenery, let alone with its bustling around-the-clock, or with the cluster of apartment buildings spread upon its face, like a butter on bread. The real deal was, of course the sight of Sistine chapel, an exact replica of its derivative, built by Pope Sixtus IV in 1473, taking up as much as five acres on the landmass of the community.

Sistine Chapel was precellence to many other chapels across Oberon; her beauty, ever warming to hearts, her giant dome, a pure grandeur of artistic man-made structure, the vast halls on her inside, a hallmark of old-fashioned masonry work, mixed with updated strokes in constructions. Not only was she beautiful and alluring in the eyes of most iron-hearted trippers, but a place where incomputable worshippers converged to pray to a higher self on Sabbath.

Seeing religion as the best shot to keep up order among the masses, the Cardinals had enacted a rule that allows every man to live according to their whims on religion, to hold a conviction to himself/herself, in as much as he/she keep off from forcing it on the other. Aside that, they could as much as rear a shrine anywhere, anytime.

Just like most time on Sabbath, Sistine chapel was filled with life, so as she erupt with untellable worship activity. Her very walls shook with chants and hymn of praises.

The growing feeling of disport and glee in the air was truncated as men and women, assumed in black jumpsuits obstrude upon the masses taken up in act of worship. The atmosphere was at once intoxicated, panic gripped all within the hall, silence enclosed, leaving no room for a tiny gasp or breath, as the crowd of worshippers held the gaze of their aggressors, whose eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

At the head of the band of psychics was, the knockout;Mahalia Mckee, also, lady Proteus, who swaiped through the rows of neatly array pews, followed in tow by her small army.

From the far-right of the column trailing behind her was the cutesy teenage, Setya, with flowing platinum-blonde hair, drop-dead beautiful teal eyes, that could give off the reflection of a beholder through its glassy surface. With her luxuriant body length of five-feet-nine, one could easily deduce she verges on adulthood.

Right beside her stood Geoffrey with charcoal-black, close-set eyes, cropped short sinewy hair of distinct brown and lips charred beyond his vivid black eyes. His mammoth bod will set even the hardy on an autopilot of tremor.

Inches away from the gigantesque lad; a distinct undaunted psychic, Musonda walked side-long with his soul-brother with hands bunched into fists at his side and a hard visage born of hate against the human kind from the rock bottom part of his soul. They are here on a job, one which he was white-fire to be a part of. He had come with a full to bursting zeal ti make a statement right here and now.

At the far-flung end of the chain, Fleming, an underslung grownup with thick-lips, sharp nose and frosted hair unleashed two shots from his firearm, zeroed in at the vaulted ceiling of the chapel.

Thawed from their frozen state, the white-lipped crowds kicked back to life with a rustle, a jostle here and there, desperate scrambling through the chapel's hall, with other actions triggered by their surviving instinct.

Thrilled by their display of counterplot to the attack, lady Proteus giggled softly. "Now!' She said with a raise of her right hand.

That alone was the gesture needed by her army to spring into action. They charged at the fleeing throng of worshippers like a wounded lion, that they really are.

After an inhuman bound forward, a feat that even a kangaroo will come short of. Geoffrey set at work with a round-house kick that sent two of the hapless crowd flying, like a shot fired by a ballista to their death. He followed that up with a hook to the face of one of the unlucky lots, with the fellow's head snapping to a side, before going on a three-sixty-degree revolution, that later left him for dead. With his every super-human moves, bodies toppled to their end, just as blade of grasses do at the sweep of a strimmer over them.

From across the grisly scene, which was the backwash of Geoffrey's outrage, Setya stood with her beautiful pair of eyes dilated in maddening fury, a reaction that's an equal to 8.1 magnitude seismic force on Richter scale, because whenever she's at such remote extreme of anger, things get far-off from worse, beholders of those beautiful eyes are lapidified, while her luxuriant hair lash out like a scorpion's stinger.

In no time, her hair was radiating life, with almost every chorl curling outward like tentacles, grabbing at men and women, to heft them off their feet. While also creeping at the neck of some with taut and firm hold on their jugular, straggling them till they choke to their death. She drew few close to herself, at a look at her eyes , they were all turned to stones, their animate lives stripped away from them in a wink.

With springy steps, Musonda walked through the hall working havoc on the crowds sealed behind the close-barred doors of the chapel, with a smirk visible on his face and flames spouting anywhere and everywhere at the squeeze of his hand. He was enjoying every bit of the moment with gusto.

Walls caved in as balls after balls of great mass of fire came in contact with them, the barf-invoking smell of burning flesh filled the air and was rocked through the hall like a wrecking ball by the breeze blasting around at the hour.

Fleming swept through the hall, turning every one in close range with him to a pillar of frost with his sub-zero temperature manipulation, from which he also made an orb of frost that he later mould into daggers.

Wielding the daggers in both hands, he swiped its serrated edges against flesh, buried its pointy nose in chests, gutting, slashing at any of the crowds, like he was some berserker already work into a frenzy.

Like every member on her little army, Lady Proteus raged like a sandstorm through the armada of worshippers, levitating almost everyone within her sight with an upward raise of her arm and dropping them heavily from great height to their death. If being a psychic was to any a pleasure, there's no living soul that could edge past her at that, but still, that could never have amount to being a perverse psychic, not just a perverse of any house, but that of the variant mansion.

As a paranormal with the gift of shapeshifting/power mimicry and levitation, she could use almost every powers to her pleasure, bend to different shapes and mold, influence the current of a particular affair to her will, turn the tides, as she could easily put things to ruin.

Now in a half-and-half appearance of the undaunted on her team, likewise that of the pyro, she was a mixed of fury and terror. With every punch she landed, the lots were sent crashing against a wall, the others kindled by flames, shrieking, till the life leapt out of them.

Debris of a frosted tower of a lady sprayed across the floor at the impact of Geoffrey's pounding fist, several were hurtled to their death at the waggle of Setya's resilient hair that retracted easily as the claw of a cat to her scalp, while many turned to a column of ice, some burnt to ashes as every corpuscle of life in the chapel was shredded to nothing at once.

With a dart of her eyes across the big hall, now devoid of life of a human kind, and the crinkle of the corners of her mouth in a grin, Lady Proteus said to her troop in a teeny voice. "It's been quite a show guys, now we'll draw the curtain.'

In an anon, the din and moan of clashing men filled the hall on the west wing of the castle. Stirless bodies laid in heap across the floor, while injured party writhed in throes of living death.

The guardsmen had been surprisingly attacked by their adversary whilst they whiled away the hours, watching another twain take on each other in yet another drinking contest. Afterwards, the mirth and glee in the air erstwhile has been polluted as the fight reach a full-blown onslaught.


Outside the walls of the castle, Lady Orente sat dernly at the backseat of a voiture, racing down a cobbled street. She sat thinking back on the haps back in the castle with her heart throbbing heavily in her chest.

Shortly after she had made away with the knight from the pit of hell that was her boudoir in the castle, they had both dashed down passageways, averting guards on post at intervals.

She had guessed the knight knew the in and out of the castle and had obligingly followed his lead, until he scampered into a room to ask something out of the ordinary from her➖to rappelled down the wall to a band of soldiers at the ready to take her away from there.

She had also thought he was out of his darned mind to ask something of such of her right on the spot, till she had an afterthought of what crossroads she was. Rappel down to safety, or worse, get caught and be ensnared in the keep of the evil King Gaa.

Having decided on the former, and with a rapid instinctive thought, she tore off her abounding gown, grabbed the rope the knight had set down for her against the window and set to work.

'I'll create you a diversion milady.' The knight had said before running off the room.

Albeit, she couldn't shake the thought of the knight with a heart begotten of duty and allegiance to crown and land. She also couldn't wait to see the ley and greens that was the beauty of her land.

At the distant knell of a bell from the castle, the carriage turned left as the road bifurcated, pelting along the path to safety.


Sir Ogunmola found himself pinned down in a hall by four guardsmen. He danced around the mighty blows struck by each of the men, trending sidewise to dodge or parry the pelt of blows targeted at him. While he battle it all out with them, his thought wander off to something else. With the lady already rescued, and hightailing to safety with their men, he ought to make a signal call to men stationed at the battlement. He dismissed the thought at once, focusing on the present.

Just in time, he turned and twisted around another blow swiftly, head-butting one of the guards, and at the same time, disarming another with a shove to the side.

At the loud knoll of a bell probably announcing their intrusion into the castle and summoning the guardsmen to be on their guards, he stopped for the briefest of minute, knowing he had to end this right away, for in no time more men will trooped in.

And this he did with a fierce aggress on the guards, twirling around on the balls of heels like a swivel chair to gash open the neck of one of the guards, which of course, sent a spray of blood through the hall. He sent another to oblivion with a flying kick, and last not least, he buried his blade into the chest of the remainder, who howled in pain before crumbling down to his end.

That done, he ran off to the nearest window, brought out a doeskin handkerchief, and waved it vigorously through the window.

Varying chants bounced off the walls on the west wing of the stone castle of Irawe, as guards circled round a table to propel the duo pitted in a drinking bout to victory. They had a wager placed on either of the two, and watched in a mix of awe and jitters as both men battle it out to an end.

The taller and bulkier of the men watched with dimmish eyes as a lean chap filled his goblet to brimful with a red wine jetting out of an amphora. His vision was almost coming to him in a blur, his auditory sense failing him as it picked faint sounds of the chants of his name. But still, he couldn't resist the urge to outmatch his adversary. And with the thought of victory accompanied with loads of cowries flashing through his mind, he grabbed the goblet off the table, finishing the content therein in the goblet in a draught.

His action was followed by another wave of wild chants from their spectators, who were all riveted by the display.

The other man; a long-nosed man with skinhead watched his opposition gulped down his thirtieth round of the day, but not any furtherance as he slumped down to the ground in drunken stupor. Paying no mind to the reactions that follow on the coattails of his slump into marginal consciousness, he poured himself his thirty-first round of the day, guzzled the wine in his goblet, and rose to the cheers and jeers of the spectators in triumphal vaunt.


Outside, Dan Alado with a handful of soldiers cloaked in the red twilled uniform of Irawe guardsmen irrupted into the battlement, taking on the few guards standing about the breastwork.

About a minute span later, the squad marshaled by Alado, who plied an axe trounced the men in a fleet, severing armeted heads off torsos, splattering blood against the stone walls of the battlement, till their was none of the guards upon their feet.

"Very good." Saith Dan Alado to his men. "Now get down to business." He added, watching as the men hotfooted over to the cracks in the breastwork, dropping taut ropes to the billyoh of soldiers in line at the foot of the castle. The men responded very fast by grabbing at the ropes, while creeping furtively against the wall in a rise successively.


A wave of cohorts spearheaded by Sir Ogunmola trooped down the corridor of the castle's harem on a sly, removing guards manning archways and arcades as stealthy as they could, in order not to draw unnecessary attention.

Their plans were panning out so far. They have a horde engaging the Irawe's battalion on the plains➖a thousand miles away from the outskirt of the empire. And yet, an army here to rescue the fair lady Orente, after being prised through the border with the help of the merchant friend of Sir Ogunmola.

The knight stopped short, bringing each singly heads with him to a halt. Having known the castle plan issued by their spies by rote, he could tell the boudoir in which the lady was kept was close at hand, of which he wasn't ready to take any chances.

"You must all linger here and hold off the guards, while I get the lady." He gave them his behest and made wightly out of sight.


Lady Orente sat forlornly in her boudoir, disregarding the smell of roasted lamb and havier saluting her nostrils from plates of delicacies laid upon the table in a corner of her grand quarters, hedonically laid out with varied exuberances➖with its gild coated cornices, prim pieces of furniture, draperies that coalesce with the bright red color of the walls and fuzzy animal skin carpet.

Tears ran down her black dappled eyes unbidden, the spastic motion of her heart aligning with the sniffs of her aquiline nose. Her erstwhile appealing features now drawn and woebegone from sleeplessness and oft brooding.

Ever since she was nobbled that night, she had been full of hopes that help would reach out to her in her plight from somewhere, somehow. And since none has come hither, her faith has been waning of late, to leave her in an abyss of despair.

While she was drowned in the deep of her hopelessness, a man of great height in a tabard, with fine-tuned habitus walked in on her, startling her from her reverie. She made to shout but decided otherwise as the body language of the man predicate no hostility.

Seeing her reaction, the man removed the veil covering half of his face, to reveal a finely long nose, round brown eyes, and a high-brow. All features of mighty handsomeness.

"Heigh-ho!" She exclaimed at the sight of the man➖the famed knight of the Koso kingdom and the far reaches of her boundary.

"Be not afeard milady." He said. "I have come to get you to safety."

The lady sprang to her feet at once at the mention of this. At last, she was having a chance at the freedom she yearn. "Then we must get away in amain." She said, gathering the hems of her floor-length plaid muslin with her dainty hands.

"This way, milady." He said leading her all the way to safety.

The ear-splitting war cry of scrapping men was winnowed by the strong gale blowing on the plains. The brown-earth field of honor, now a spring of crimson as men in the all red of Irawe confluxed with the white and blue of Koso empire in blood-and-guts. The coppery smell of blood filled the air, along with wails and groans of men as heads were loped of bodies with axes, innards gutted by lances, eyes and other bodily organs gored by arrows, horses and riders fallen to swords.

Both forces had came in contact a little minute past the undern of day, while the sun in its mightiness began shedding the earth with warm glow of its yellow hue.

With little ado, they had got down to business, the clangs of blades coming against another and cries of dying men drowning out every bits of the throb of war drums and claxon of horns issued by a distinguish set to steered the soldiers into action.

In the middle of the on-going action, Kurunmi mounted upon his sabled Destrier was, on the foreground of things, slashing, swinging, with his wrought made blade to bring many a men to their end, while also burying its keen crescent end in the hearts of the unlucky lots hardy enough to rush into him.

Few yardage away from him, Sir Ogunnaike in a display of bravura on his war-horse broke through the ranks of enemy forces, erasing men with every single swipes of his serrated blade, like he would do ink on a sheet.

As time dragged away, so is the gradual depletion in the numbers of sea of heads that was the riotous gathering of the combatting men.

Irated by the adversary's progress on his troops, the marshal of the Irawe legions stepped up his killing fling, cantering through lines on his all-white Steed to remove men from the face of the earth.

His sifting movements through the battlefield brought him to the end of Sir Ogele, who was naught short of a whirlwind swallowing all in contact with him in a dazzling show of swordsmanship.

Registering the damage done by the other, both men stared hard at each other from several paces away, kept their mind off the haps around them, raced at each other with faces imbued with rage, and swords aimed at each other.

More coming on the tail of this!!!!

The stone castle of Irawe rose head and shoulders above other edifices in the empire's capitol vicinage. The frosting on her cake; its two hundred and a fifty steeple, pointed at the sky in the defiant manner of the tower of babel, blocking out half the superficies of the orange setting sun. Curling around her neck region from which the steeple protruded, like a tie, was her battlement, pale watched-out by the passing of age and seasons. On the face of things, one could tell the empire was living up to its famed alias 'the stone pit city'.

A look at the court, and one would live in retrospect of the stone age, as all within the throne hall was fashioned from stone, save for the embroidered drapes hanging over sash windows. The quartz floor spread out in network of hatching lines, reflecting the image of the confluence in the big room. The arched ceiling overhead, glutted with ornate lightning fixture and carven depictions of the empire's myth.

King Gaa sat as if carven out of a stone, like the slab of stones under him, that was his throne. He held a codex away from his pear-face, his fierce gaze changed over to his royal court sitting in conticent within the room. His mind tossing a loop around the issue at hand.

The wait is finally over. Several days after the abduction of the maiden lady➖Orente, his love-druery, there was a response at last from her people. The message written in the codex brought in by his emissary, had detailed the sighting of Koso's horde on the eastern plain.

Now was his chance to prove to the world what demon he was made of. A victory over Koso➖an empire with formidable horde and impregnable posture will bring him fully to spotlight. It's time to bring to light the army, he had long been breeding in advent of such situation.

"Prepare the ranks Marshal." He said to his cross-eyed general.

"Aye milord."

"I want every men in our garrison at the ready. It's time to make a statement." He finished, rose to his feet and walked out of the room in jaunty steps, leaving behind the severally men in elan robes to themselves.

Sir Ogunmola stood scanning about in the unaired semidark room. His gaze skimming over the walls draped with arras depicting several pictorial patterns of horse-riding men, a caravan of merchants, and a procession of carracks on sail. Albeit small, the room was a depository of arts and trophies in itself, as many pieces of art were pinned against the walls of the room in array.

Of all the objects on display in the room, one was of greater appeal to the knight, who strode over to it for closer inspection. It was a pair of antlers probably collected from a reindeer, its surface was gleaming white and its tapered ends, sharper than any blade the knight has ever seen. Unable to resist its charm, he was forced to traced a hand over its surface.

"Who have we here?" A husky voice said from behind him of a sudden, cutting him off his groaking on the appealing piece. "Oho! It's you my knight friend." The voice added in unrestrained astonishment.

"Been a lang time old friend." He responded by way of greeting, watching as the stumpy figure of a man with oxeyed-eyes and snub nose descended ungainly down the stairs from across him.

The man proceeded toward him in short pace, with the wooden floorboard creaking under him with every steps. He walked past him, stopping short by the hung antlers he had caught him groaking at. "This was bequeathed to my father by his grandpa." He said, indicating the antlers with a jut of his jaw. "Now you see it's a hand-me-down legacy, which I'm afraid will be a custom of my family."

"I've come for something of dearworth, Onaolapo." He announced to the elder man, as he wasn't having any of his tale telling. He was here as regard to something of much worth than old family lore.

"And what would that be grand knight?" The man asked, turning round to settle his gaze on him.

"I've come to seek your favor."

"What favor of me do you ask?"

"I'm afraid you have to swear to me first."

The old merchant stared at him for long, trying to put a rope on why he had requested for an oath. "Fine then. I swear to aid you in whatso you've come hither to ask of me." The man said at last, casting him a wareful look.


At the wee hours of the morn. A guard with bottle-green eyes watched the approaching merchant's caravan and the dust cloud in their wake as they neared the borderline bulwark of the city through the visor of his helmet. From their ragged looks and dishevelled clothing, he could easily suspected they had journeyed from a faraway land to get here.

Without looking their way, he turned on his heels, walking snappishly toward a tent few meters away. He halted right before the tent, announcing to the rest of the guards on post. "There's a caravan in bound."

At his announcement, there was an instant reaction from the guards, who scurried out of the tent over to the wall.

The company of merchants and their wagons were waved to a stop by two bulky guards in cuirass, with their blades strapped to a belt at their sides. The red pants which marked them as the imperial guardsmen of the empire danced around as the trade wind steadily blew.

"Howdy fellows." Greeted one of the guards whom are only distinguishable by their heights as their face were concealed by their helmets.

"Hullo sir." A stumpy man, seemingly the leader of the company returned.

"How goes your journey?" The other guard asked this time.

"Very fine, thanks to the god of trade."

A look at the billowing flag bore by one of the wagons, and the guards could tell from whither they've journeyed. The red and blue stripes running over the white background of the flag was the official blazon of Ota➖a city to the west of Irawe empire.

"May I have a look at what's hoard in those wagons?" The first guard asked politely.

"You may of course, sir." The man said with a wan smile.

At the go, the guard walked up to one of the wagons, drew up the canvas drape over it, and stuck his head inside. Silk, fleece, linen, and heavy fabric were laid in neatly piles within the wagon. Trying not to take any chances, the guard fingered the wares one after the other, until satisfied with the assessment.

"All good." He said as he withdrew from the wagon.

"The finest there is sir." The merchant said of his wares to the guards.

"Let them through." The other guards shouted at the assent nod of his mate.

"Thanks to you two." The merchant bowed, gesturing to his confrere to ride on to the wall.

"Be safe through your trade in our great city." The guards yelled after them as they proceeded through the gate.