It's back! The Hero I mean

Stronghold Stagger


Chapter One: The Rock

After some travelling, the young villager had learnt of a great forgery that had been set up for years at the Warrior Stronghold. Few were allowed in, some Vesterians were exceptions: Including this young villager and they seeked a stronger sword, for theirs was rusting. They had traveled from Port Fidelio, through the Farmlands and now arrived at Redwood Pass, one of the longest passages in Vesteria…

The path ahead of the young villager was decked out with overlooking trees that boasted immense autumn leaves at it’s peak, shimmering like bronze. The walk was going to be very tough, but the young villager came well prepared: With a decent backpack, small lantern and their trusty sword and shield holstered on.
They would take breaks on the occasion by small fires, in which cracked and spat small sparks in the outshining cold.
Treading up the steep slope, the young villager could feel a light tremble among the stones as if they were watching them with great hostility and intent of severe injury: the young villager continued treading.

As they approached thick snow, mist laced the surroundings, the ground shook ever so slightly, if not, it felt like an earthquake that was intentionally trying to make the young villager fall over.
A great growl bellowed through the forest, shaking the firm branches vigorously. Something was coming…
In the distant fog, a pair of great yellow eyes towered in the higher parts of the trees, a dark shadow slowly took form in the shape of a large man. Crumbling of rocks and pebbles, as the creature of stone stepped forward, leaving deep prints in the thin ice. Its hand rose, crashing down on the floor, more snow shook down, the mist thickened and a large bang as the ground shook.

The young villager ran, confused and fearful of the unknown giant that lurked the red forest. They were soon to find out that it was: The Golem of Redwood Pass.

Chapter Two: The Fort

After some relentless sprinting, the young villager found themselves running through a deep long tunnel. Water dripped and echoed in the solemn cave, dimly lit by torches that rowed out in columns. A few moments later and the young villager discovered brisk white snow, a surrounding of high glaciers, and a heavily armoured castle at the other end: The Warrior Stronghold.

The bridge was made of finely cut stone and the gates were barred with wrought iron and guarded by men who appeared to be made of metal, holding large spears with the warrior crest flagged near the tip. It seemed almost impossible to penetrate if you were to be unlucky enough to be their foe. The young villager greeted the guard at the front, whom had a stern look on their face (probably looking out for spies) and was let in, the immense iron gate jolted upwards in a stoic manner as if not wanting to leave the entrance unprotected. A large slam of steel as the young villager approached the nearby forgery.

The forgery was grand. A large steaming pot of molten iron, brewed in the background, heat poured out with a light sizzle that lingered in people’s ears as they got close to it. Anvils were large and chunky, several scratch marks of good use and experience were scarred among them. Several bulky men had thick aprons over their front, many with big beards and gauntlets strapped across like gloves as they forged new weapons together, sparks flew in all directions with each clang and clash of metal.

A nearby blacksmith greeted the young villager, the warrior crest burnt into their arm. Upon close inspection, the blacksmith knew of the sword’s use, knowing that the young villager needed a finer and grander one. A masterpiece of crafted gold!
Several days were spent mingling with warriors, drinking beer and playing card games, while the blacksmith worked hard day and night to create a sturdy sword that would last for many years and stay sharp and honed throughout. The clanging of hot iron could be heard echoing across the stronghold as they worked.

One late night, the young villager was presented a sword made of ‘magisteel’. The blade itself was thin and sharp, and could almost be considered a rapier by veteran swordsman. The handle was a twirl of decor, with a lone red jewel implemented slightly above it (Rubee’s eye maybe?) and two short rods stuck out on either side, with chants of a warrior’s pride carved into it. It was a fine piece of work, any blacksmith would say.
Though of course, it cost the young villager quite the coin. But of course, they had just enough to purchase it.

Chapter Three: The Bombarding Boulders

The next morning, the young villager was prepared to leave the mighty base to head back to Nilgarf, hopefully without greeting that stone beast in the mist.

Though of course, that wasn’t going to happen…

A sudden thunder of noise! A nearby wall came crashing in at a tower post. The Stronghold was under attack!

Exiting the stone barricades, the young villager had spotted several stone figures, marching along the tunneled path towards the iron gates, something came, and it had a very clear objective. Several roars and warriors came batting to arms, grabbing the nearest piece of weaponry and armour they could find, clumsily putting on helmets or strapping on a random shield.

The warriors came out charging, clearly mad at the stone beings that stared dully in their general direction. The clashing of stone and steel, as swords and maces came crashing down on solid rock, large deep groans emerged from the golems as they began sprinting, or hovering?

One stone monster approached the young villager, its size was intimidating and its eyes glowed a dim yellow. A stone arm swung round at tremendous speed, striking the young villager’s shield in a large ring, like striking a big bell. Unsheathing their new sword, the young villager pierced the blade through the creature’s (what was meant to be) chest. A large howl, and the stone crumbled into small piles, its eyes faded into grey.
One strike was a bit overkill… But it works.

Charging with the rest of the barbarians, the young villager chopped through solid stone, the jewel gleamed in the sunlight, the shield shone in prowess.
After some thorough combat, the golems stood stationary, like statues, their eyes still shining a dim orange.

Among the silence, the ground shook in fear…
A magnificent giant, made of boulder and stone,
peered over the mountain peak. Two crooked arms grasped the snowy top, as a head shaped like a crown slowly leaned over it, eyes glowing a bright sun yellow.
A Golem, huge and high!

Chapter Four: Magic Stone? Meet Magisteel.

The warriors stared in amazement, the humanoid giant of stone stood upon the summit like a throne. An ancient enemy, since the near beginning of the war, now stood upon Redwood Peak, glaring at every individual with devastating gloom.
A bellowing roar…

Every golem that had previously stood crumbled into dust, nothing remained but fine grey powders among the warriors. The warriors were fearful of the giant boulder, but knew not defeat!
Large fiery bundles of rock, rocketed over the stronghold walls, their catapults shot at the creature.
In immediate response, the Golem caught two flying rocks, and flung them back at greater speeds, exploding on impact with the Stronghold’s fine walls, which crumbled at the pure strength.

As the Golem stood upon the throne, it noticed a small being that clung at its side, a small person with a shining sword and rusted shield, with a determined look upon their face: The young villager intended to defeat the giant foe. Clasping its arms around its side, the Golem looked as if it were swatting at a bug. A large cloud emerged from its side, as its chest began crumble over from its own strength. The young villager continued climbing, now at its shoulder.

The warriors stood idly by as they watched a lone Vesterian climb the extended peak of the mountain that tried to kill all that came too close. In a long time, the warriors had not seen such bravery and foolishness, to take on IT with such determination. Their weapons held softly in their grips as they spectated the grand event.

The young villager was at head level, and stared into the bottomless light that radiated from the pair of gleaming eyes. Without hesitation, the young villager struck at the Golem’s eye, shattering it open, leaving a great dent in its face. Looking inside and down, the young villager could see a small chamber at the Golem’s chest, something glowed at its center, like a Vesterian in thick grey robes, slumped at the heart of the Golem.

Chapter Five: The Lone Mage.

Jumping down, the young villager found them-self in a large ovular room, with a glowing Vesterian, of unknown origin at its heart, believed to be the source of the Golem’s strength. The Vesterian that slumped in solidness wore robes that were of similar design to the Mages, several cracks were visible along their face and feet.
The young villager approached them, cautious of the surprising situation.
In some hesitance, the young villager struck at the Vesterian, a light clang could be heard: the Vesterian was frozen in place, coated with magic.

The young villager continuously struck at the stone, until something gave in. The Vesterians figure began to deteriorate, it was weakening. Another final strike, and a loud high-pitched ring bounced in the chamber.The young villager fell to one side, pained at the noise.

The Sword had shattered…
But so had the Vesterian…

The chamber caved in, the Golem bellowed in what must have been agony for a magical creature. It staggered backwards, falling off the peak and into the abyss of Redwood Pass…

The End…


NOTES: It has been a while since I’ve done one of these so it’ll be a bit rusty.
(I’ve been sick for a whole week: it was not fun)
Although it was fun to write this and felt nice to crossover one of my older pieces.
Expect more in the future!

As Usual: Thanks for Reading!

3 Likes

My 10th Story on The Hero :smiley: :tada:

Of course Apollo makes another lore. :roll_eyes:
Do you never sleep?

Nice story on the hero!

I never sleep, comrade.

1 Like

Hot story. I need more

I’m pretty sure the guy quit, shame.