I know this sounds a bit rough, and please feel FREE to give comments, questions, critiques of a constructive nature so that I can make it better and so it flows more like a history and less like a fictional writing. Thanks guys, and enjoy!

Trial By Fire

Young MacKenzie James strolled down the flagstones of the city of Trinsic, the sweet smell of jasmine filling his lungs as the vibrant orange, yellow, and pink of the setting sun enveloped him like a warm, familiar blanket. He waved to his friend Angus the blacksmith who paused in his hammering for a moment, wiping his sweaty brow to return the gesture with a smile. Mac continued down the lane toward home, stopping to have a chat with Adelle, the stablemaster's apprentice. He nervously approached, talking of his latest lesson at the paladic academy, and of horse handling, and other mundane things until he finally go the nerve. He proposed marriage to her, after several years of courtship. Having made her blush to match the evening sky, he turned and went on his way, elated.
He arrived home, a spring in his step, eager to tell his parents the news so they may begin making arrangements for the bride price with her employer and guardian Harridan the stablemaster. Mac's father Hamish was tending the family hearth, his freshly oiled plate armor gleaming in the firelight. His mother Jaana jockeyed for position beside her husband in an attempt to turn the pheasant she was roasting before their dinner was blackened. MacKenzie smiled at the interchange as his father pinched his mother's backside, making her jump and lay a flurry of playful slaps on Hamish's massive shoulder. The paladin grabbed his wife in mock savagery, sweeping her down into his arms as he kissed her deeply. MacKenzie chose this moment to slip away quietly to his room to do some much needed studying. Upon arriving, he found his younger brother Braddock swinging a mallet at some figurines his father had purchased for him from Tomas O'Neerlan the famous toymaker of Trinsic. "Dinna do tha' ye wee gomerel, ye know father paid good money for those!" MacKenzie scolded, grabbing his brother's wrist just as the hammer was about to drop. "Ye can't stop me brother, he bought them for me, an' I intend ta practice my swing." Braddock, small and wiry as he was broke free of his older brother's grip and proceeded to smash a small wooden figure of an ogre. Take tha' ye nasty, ugly,... oof!" his words were cut off as MacKenzie wrestled him to the ground, subjecting him to tortures every younger sibling is familiar with.
* * *
Later on, when their father bellowed up the stairs for them to come to dinner, they raced each other to the bottom resulting in a bruised elbow for Braddock and a bloody nose for MacKenzie. Each one sat down nursing his own wound as their mother rushed off to get her sewing kit to help patch and bind the wounds. "You boys done horsin' around, or do ye need ta take it outside?" Their father asked sternly, his eyes narrowed in sincerity as he surveyed his children's disorderly state. "No da, we'll be good for ye." both of them answered in almost a whisper in unison. Hamish said the blessing and they ate a fine meal as MacKenzie broke the news of his betrothal to warm congraulations all around. After dinner, his father puled him aside and presented his eldest son with his own book of Chivalry, complete with personal notes from seven generations of past paladins. He received it graciously, embracing his father and basking in the honor of continuing the family line in service to the virtues. Braddock received his own training mace as MacKenzie did his own sword when he turned fifteen seasons. In his third year of paladic training, MacKenzie was twenty seasons and feeling ready for anything. Little did he know just how unready he would be for the test that was to come as he slipped into bed with the tome and dreamed of his intended in peace.
* * *
MacKenzie's blissful peace was shattered as he awoke instantly to the sound of screaming, yelling, steel on steel, and offensive magecraft. Immediately he sprung to his feet, fully alert from academy battle training. The acrid reek of smoke also assaulted his senses as he grabbed his broadsword and buckler, rushing down the stairs. Braddock was also awake, mace in hand although looking a bit less ready for a fight than his brother. The stench of death rode in on the smoke as it billowed unfettered through the streets of Trinsic, adding to the ominous depiction of unseen events outside. Hamish had already outfitted himself in his platemail with the aid of his wife who appeared sick with worry at seeing all the men in her family armed with the conflict so close to their doorstep. The paladin patriarch hefted his greatsword over his shoulder as Jaana kissed him before helping settle his heavy plate helm.
"Now boys," Hamish said sternly but his true feelings crept out between the words "Do as yer mother says an' keep her safe, this is no place fer young ones or weavers, understand?" They all nodded slowly in agreement with his words, MacKenzie's knuckles growing white as he gripped his sword hilt. Hamish felt a tinge of pride rush through him at his son's eagerness to join him. Before the emotion could overtake him, he looked over his sons once more, lingered a moment, then was gone.
Twenty minutes passed and that turned into an hour which seemed to all three occupants barracaded in the house to be an eternity. The pressure of being confined while an obvious battle was raging in the streets of his hometown became too much for MacKenzie's hot blood to handle. he unsheathed his sword to the strong protests of his mother, his brother unsure of what to do, but his father's words still hanging heavily on his mind. MacKenzie donned his chainmail silently, listening to the clashing of steel and arcane explosions of magecraft all about him. Sword in hand, he burst out the door to see an awful scene; warriors and mages from all over joining with the paladins and city guard in engaging a massive host of undead abminations swarming the highly structured streets of Trinsic. A shambling mummy bore down on MacKenzie, it's centuries old funk almost enough to paralyze the young warrior. Reacting out of instinct and fear, he lashed out at the creature, hacking a huge gash out of it's long dead flesh. The mummy groaned in mute protest, swinging a bandaged arm slowly at it's assailant. The journeyman swordsman easily sidestepped the attack, plunging the blade of his weapon into it's chest, driving the sword deeper like a lumberjack would use a splitting wedge to break a log. The beast fell, gurgling slightly before becoming completely motionless. MacKenzie lay there, the rush of his first real victory in battle coursing through his veins. It was cut short, however when the charred body of a seasoned warrior fell right beside him, his face locked in an unbreakable stare that would never end. Mackenzie's eyes met with the blank expression, the gravity of the situation hitting him with razor sharp clarity; he had to find his father. Hot tears welled up in his eyes as shot to his feet, looking about almost frantically as divisions of soldiers marched in formation to another part of the city to bolster the ranks where they were needed. The young swordsman ran down corridors and alleys, slaying the occasional zombie and shade as they crossed his path, his frustration translating itself into anger; a wrath he would let loose on these foul creatures that were soiling the sanctity of his home.
He finally found his father, but he was too late, the massive paladin was engaged in a duel with a horrific green skinned lich, their blades ringing out over the sounds of any other skirmishes nearby. The blade of Hamish's greatsword met Juo'nar's viking sword with a dissonant crash almost like two forces of nature colliding. MacKenzie and not a few others from both sides stopped to watch in awe as the titanic battled raged, both men not giving quarter or asking for it as they continued to beat mercilessly at each other's near perfect defenses. The lich had the advantage of unholy strength, and after over ten minutes of swinging his massive sword, the paladin began to tire. MacKenzie stood transfixed, unable to either offer aid or run for help, as the battle turned to an inevitable conclusion. Hamish, his stamina all but drained let his defenses down for but a split second which the lich general took advantage of with relish, driving his corrupted paladin blade into the virtuous man's side, making him crumple to the ground. MacKenzie screamed, charging the line of undead soldiers with the ferocity borne of rage and despair. Before he could get there however, his attack was cut short by a burning agony that felt to start at his stomach and spread through his veins... quite like poison, which in fact it was. He fell to his knees with an impotent gurgle as a strong hand grabbed his shoulder, dragging him much to his annoyance behind a bulwark. The mage woman who rescued him muttered "Vas An Nox", laying her hands on his stomach, the pain draining away from the source til it was quenched to his extremities.
By the time he regained his equilibrium, the green skinned monster had fled the scene to cause death and destruction elsewhere, the body of Hamish James lying amidst the others from the fracas. MacKenzie suddenly felt the gut wrenching urge to run home as fast as he could, his boots clapping across the stones as he ran, reaching his home to find it ablaze. Acting quickly, he jumped into the horse trough, drenching himself as he ran into the inferno. Immediately he saw the corpse of a zombie, but also at it's feet lay his mother, not moving, not breathing. His tears ran and mixed with the water as he felt around in the smoky room for his brother. Another figure, this time of a skeletal knight lay in a heap on the floor beside Braddock who was lightly breathing, unconscious. MacKenzie put his brothers arm behind his neck and with a strength borne of desperation lifted Braddock's limp form and focibly dragged it from the burning structure.
Several paladins and a few mages received them as they burst from the doorway, healing their wounds and seeing to escorting them to a safer part of town where they could be evacuated.
***
After the undead forces had finally been driven from the city, MacKenzie returned to his home, now a pile of ash and stone. He found where the hearth had been, feeling in the cold ashes until he found what he was looking for; his father's holy sword, consecrated by the holy mages of Luna. The entire weapon was blackened permanently from the heat of the fire. MacKenzie held the sword, his anger as hot as the blaze that had claimed the city not long ago. he vowed to destroy all undead wherever it was to be found. he would organize armies if he had to in his quest. He would avenge his family and his city. The paladins had failed in the defense of the city, even with the help of numerous supporters. MacKenzie resolved to search for the best mercenaries to surround himself in his endeavor. He packed what he could salvage and headed out of town...

Excellent stories, Micah! Thank you for sharing them with us!

Please also copy them to our GRI GuildPortal Hosting site... in our RP forum called the Twilight Conclave. It's located at: Gentle Rest Inn GRI Forums -

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~ Safari