MTLNOVEL Chapter 1: Prologue + Chapter 1
The Lands Between were peaceful once. It prospered under the rule of Queen Marika the Eternal. Mighty cities and towns stood on all corners of the land. People lived and flourished, their lives peaceful and happy. Nature thrived and produced fruits of unimaginable taste - juicy and tasty for all who ate them - and plants that were so unique one would not help but be mesmerized.
But then the great Elden Ring shattered. Not soon after Queen Marika the Eternal was nowhere to be found. The people soon looked towards Godwyn the Golden, the heir of Queen Marika and her previous consort, the great Godfrey. But it was for naught as during the Night of the Black Knives, Godwyn the Golden was killed.
Soon Marika's offspring, demigods all, claimed the shards of the Elden Ring. Their inhumane strengths and vast armies under their territory and control attributed to the great wars that rocked the Lands Between. Blood, bodies, steel, cries… death. That was what replaced the peace.
It was only after cities, villages, towns, people, and animals, perished and fell that the Tarnished came. The ones who had long lost the call of grace; returned to this land. Hoarah Loux, chieftain of the badlands. The ever-brilliant Goldmask. The Loathsome Dung Eater. Stark, the winter wolf. Merlin, the foul witch. Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-knowing. And countless others that followed so that they could stand before the Elden ring. And become the Elden Lord…
"...Mama, can I become the Elden Lord?"
"Yes my dear, in due time you will rise amongst all Tarnished and all the demigods… however, for now, you must rest my dear child. It is way past you're bedtime."
"Goodnight, Mama."
Chapter 1
The Elden Ring
"Faster Leonora, this way, come on girl!"
A young man clothed in armour made of chainmail and silver braces on his arms, legs, and shoulders was riding atop a horse - with a single horn growing above its right ear. Behind them was a swarm of wolves hellbent on getting a bite out of the two.
"We're almost there Leonora! The first grace site is right around the corner-"
THUD!
In an instant, the rider and its steed were gone, squashed and driven deep into the grassy earth by a giant pale foot. Their pursuers, the pack of hungry wolves stopped in their steps and proceeded to flee in fear. The sound of loud footsteps followed them as the owner chased the wolves - with a loud bellow that rocked the walls of the cliff - leaving the sight of the mangled body of the Tarnished and the calling bell of their spectral steed shattered for all to be seen.
Silence soon reigned upon the area only to be driven away by the sound of a galloping horse. The sound of chainmail and metal hitting each other shared in driving the silence away.
A deep voice erupted from the armored figure indicating their gender as a male.
"Poor soul was unfortunate to awaken in this area. It would've been a miracle if they were able to reach the closest grace site."
The man looked down at the splattered mess of their fellow Tarnished. Unfortunately, they had come into a run-in with a troll unsuspectingly.
"Come on Torrent might as well gather the runes." The man reached a hand down on the body, a second later bright tendrils of light escaped from the corpse and entered the man's outstretched hand.
"Hmm, they have a few smithing stones surprisingly enough. Might as well take that- oh and some arrows too? It seems that this Tarnished would've made a good warrior if they had just survived."
"Let's head back to camp."
The journey back to their humble abode was silent. The man already being an expert in navigating through the most peaceful area of the land. Except for the harmless goats and squirrels, there were no hostile creatures. It was a quick ten-minute journey back to their simple tent and campfire inside a small gathering of trees beside the walls of a cliff. It was hidden enough so that they wouldn't have to worry about being attacked, as well as allowing enough visual to look for any enemies that may come their way.
The figure soon hopped off his spectral steed while grasping the reigns and guiding their companion to the campfire where they proceeded to lay down with a shake of their head causing their mane to shake and a small neigh which sounded oddly close to a breath of relief.
"Our journey comes to an end tomorrow Torrent. After three years of travelling and exploring north, or as north as we could go, and south Limgrave we'll finally be returning to the Roundtable Hold." The man sighed as he sat crosslegged beside his trusty steed, their hands going up to remove their helmet.
Underneath revealed the features of a young man with a slight stubble. A scar ran vertically from their left eye to the bottom of their left cheek angled enough to just barely cross his upper and bottom lip and ending a few inches off their chin. Their short black hair fluttered under the slight breeze as their bright unique sea-green eyes stared into the flames.
"I'll be home soon, Mom."
Elden Ring
The Roundtable Hold
The Roundtable Hold, the great gathering place for the Tarnished. A home and sanctuary for the individuals who venture out into the hellish lands beyond the doors. Although only a few lucky individuals are graced to visit the Hold more than once, those individuals are more skilled than the rest. They're the ones who willingly walk the lands amongst creatures of unsightly features. The dead, the possessed, the disfigured beast of the night, the countless monsters of all shapes and sizes…
"Um, Ser Bashing, how can you even venture out there then, aren't you afraid?"
"How? Are you deaf, boy?! I said skilled individuals and I am one of those very skilled individuals." The man said with a puff of his chest.
"Bullshit."
"Who said that?!" The white-bearded man stood up with a growl.
A snicker came from across the room followed by a few chuckles.
"I don't know why you're laughing, Fenton. I don't think you've ever gone past those doors more than the number of fingers on your right hand."
The man known as Frenton growled as his hand reached for his sheathed rapier. "Care to repeat that old-timer?"
"Is everyone deaf nowadays?" The old man said sarcastically. "I said-"
The argument ceased to continue as it was interrupted by the loud ominous creaking sound of the duel stone doors of the Hold. The few and current residents of the Roundtable drew their gaze away from the arguing Tarnished and towards the sound.
A few seconds later a tall fully armored man walked into the room. Their face was covered with a metal helmet with only their eerie green eyes that glowed under the torchlights barely visible. They wore a simple piece of armour, a piece of mail with a dark green surcoat worn on top, tightly secured with a pair of belts - one horizontal going around their hip and the other running from their right armpit to their waist and back around.
The sound of their leather boots was barely audible with each step they took; were it not for the shifting of mail-plated armour they would've been as quiet as the wind. An action that was considered impossible due to the features of the armour. They already looked ominous with their towering height and lack of emotions due to their helmed face, but that didn't seem to be enough as they carried a large sword on their back.
"Great Marika, he's back."
"I thought he was dead…"
"You're not the only one."
"How many times has he gone out there?"
"Too many to count."
"He's been gone for three years now hasn't he?"
"How should I know? I've steered clear of that guy ever since I arrived here."
"That sword is huge."
As the person walked by the individuals closest to them would cease their conversation and avert their gazes often looking down, up, or just anywhere away from the figure.
"Sir Bashing, who is that?"
"That, rookie, is a man you best stay away from."
Greenie looked at the elderly man with confusion written all over his face. "But why?"
Bashing looked at the shorter and younger boy with a hard glare. "Cause out of all the Tarnished here, he is one of the very few who've gone out of those doors and returned countless times; in fact, too many times to even count anymore."
"The old man's right-" Fenton came over, his red cloak swishing with each step and his shiny rapier revealing itself before being covered by the cloak as the brunette stopped behind Bashing.
"We all thought the man died years ago after not returning for over a year; considering how they would return once or twice in a month or longer rumours spread that they had died. Seems like those rumours were wrong."
Ser Bashing then added. "No one knows anything about the man, except for those closest to him as well as Gideon Ofnir. Then again, Sir Ofnir is an exception as he seems to know everyone around here." Completely forgetting how Fenton addressed him just minutes prior.
The rookie glanced over his shoulder to catch the man walking up the grand staircase leading to the infamous roundtable of the praised Tarnished ones; the strongest and most skilled warriors amongst their kind.
Elden Ring
The man grumbled and scowled underneath their helmet as they walked past the grand hall of the Roundtable. It was the first floor where a few long tables and smaller ones were spread amongst the room. There were a dozen or so residents of the Hold milling about and chatting with a few eating.
Of course with a few dozen people equalled a large number of eyes following him. It was a given considering his three-year-long absence. He was already well-known for venturing out of the stronghold multiple times and returning alive, unlike a majority of the unfortunate souls who found themselves waking in the Lands Between.
He could hear their whispers, their comments; he could see their faces of shock and admiration from the corner of his eyes. He didn't like it at all. Nevertheless, there wasn't much he could do except make his way up the grand staircase that connected the main floor of the Hold to the second floor where access was strict. Not just anyone can go up there, only a few Tarnished gain the privilege of the 'real' Roundtable Hold.
Soon enough though without him even knowing, he had reached the top of the stairs; however, he still felt their eyes behind him, only once he entered through the single door did they disappear.
The upper level of the Hold was quiet compared to the grand hall below. The usual denizens were few in between which was a regular and very common occurrence. They were like him who did not hesitate to travel outside the sanctuary the Hold brought. Right now however the room was barren. The only sound came from the crackling fireplace and the rhythmic hammering of Hweg the blacksmith.
The man turned to the left hallway where it revealed Hweg and his anvil while swords and blades were scattered around him; some hanging on the walls, others in messy piles, the rest stacked neatly in proper racks. He would've interacted with the blacksmith but he only had one destination in mind and one goal. That goal was laid before him and all he needed to do was push the door open.
With a deep breath and trembling hands, he opened the two doors. The scene that greeted him made him smile and choke up as his eyes began to burn and tears threatened to leave. Sitting on a bed with the orange and yellow flames crackling and illuminating the individual's figure was a lady clothed in a long black robe that covered her body from head to toe; you couldn't see her face as her head was tilted slightly down as she read from a book in her hands.
It was a peaceful sight that seemed so out of the ordinary in this hellish world.
"Perseus, you're home."
"I'm back Mom."
A serene silence filled the room as the two individuals looked upon each other. It was broken soon by Percy's footsteps crossing the room and entering the women's open arms.
"I've missed you so much, my dear."
Percy basked in his mother's cold embrace, forgetting how much he had missed her comforting presence. It felt as if all his burdens were gone, his phantom pains nonexisting, and the horrors which ingrained themselves deep into his memories and dreams all but gone.
"I missed you too mother," Percy mumbled.
Lady Fia, the deathbed companion pulled away from her son. "Why don't you take your helmet off so I can see my baby's face."
Percy pouted at once. No matter what after three years of wandering around he would always remember his mother's persistent endearing nickname for him. Regardless he listened and pulled the metal headpiece off.
"Oh my beautiful child," Lady Fia smiled as she took in her son's bright green eyes and the beauty mark underneath his right eye, his sharp cheekbones and even his nose which would forever be cute for her as she would be reminded of all the times she would bop him there.
"Shed thy armour and sit beside me. It is time for you to relax, you're not out there anymore."
Percy smiled and strode to the corner of the room where an armour stand stood, the same armour stand given to him by D who had helped with his swordsmanship.
"It's been so long since I sat on something this comfy," Percy mumbled softly as his hand ran through the cotton comforter.
Fia smiled. "Sleep my child."
Percy sent her a confused look. "But I just arrived and it's only just morning. I have so much to tell you."
"You can tell me once you wake up. Now go to sleep, you needeth not worry anymore, you can sleep to your heart's content."
"But mother-"
Fia shushed him with a finger and a raised eyebrow causing Percy to gulp. "I am your mother, Perseus; and a mother knows exactly what her child needs. Now go to sleep."
Percy nodded and gently repositioned himself on the fairly large bed. When his head hit the pillow it was like a spell. He almost fainted but stopped as he looked up at his mother's smiling face.
"Goodnight Mom."
"Goodnight my dear," Fia smiled as she placed a small kiss on his brow.
| Notes |
Armour: Kaiden Set w/ Custom colours
Weapon: Castle Morne Claymore
Leonora: A Spectral Steed for the deceased unnamed Tarnished
Ser Bashing: OC
Fenton: OC
Greenie: OC
| End |