A Voice from the Past (2 of 4)Follow

If you all remember or read, I was in a writing co-op with Rampart. I was to write parts one and three of "A Voice from the Past", and he would write parts two and four.

Well, I'm happy to now present to you Rampart's submission! I haven't touched anything past redoing the line spacing for Alla-compatibility and a few small spelling fixes so what you are reading is all-Rampart here. Then it'll be up to me to write part three, and our very own elvaan dragoon will cap off the story we started writing so so long ago.

Please enjoy the long-awaited continuance of this story of self and historical discovery and adventure...

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The sun glistened off of the fresh dew in the trees and grass of West Ronfaure forest. Rampart stepped out of his abode onto the cool soft grass and took a look around. It was early morning from the looks of it and he checked his clock,
“Yup” he muttered to himself, “gotta meet Phyree and Yekan today, I should go get ready huh Raiden?”

His blue crest gave a crisp nod and stretched his wings out and yawned bearing its pearly white teeth, just waking up as well. Rampart walked back inside his house and looked at the far wall, his purple armor hanging on a mannequin.

“My master..” he thought “can I truly call myself a dragoon and knight of San d‘oria while knowing someone could be in danger and even questioning to ignore it?”

Of course he could he knew, he had fought in many great battles and was highly revered as a knight and warrior. This was a different scenario, it wasn’t just a soldier lost on patrol or a Orcish ambush on the boarders, this was his master and he knew something was wrong, a different kind of fear almost took his breath. He went inside and strapped his steel armor, purple in color, and customary for dragoon’s of San d’oria. His wyvern, with a seeming grin took flight and flew as he jogged to the meeting place of the twins, realizing he was already late and cursing himself silently that he indulged in thought to much for his own good.

The twins stood under a large oak at the meeting place, both waiting patiently until they saw the purple clad knight marching up the hill at a brisk pace with his wyvern not far behind.

“Morning to you ladies,” Rampart said with a crisp bow.

“No need…” Phyree started,

“For formalities” Yekan finished with a quick bow from the both of them in unison.

“You ladies talking like that never gets old” Rampart stated with a chuckle, his wyvern also seemed to find humor in it with a grin on his face.

“This will be an adventure for sure!” Yekan cheered mpatiently, throwing a fist into the air.

Phyree also threw a fist in the air as the two mages started at a brisk pace towards the tomb of the dead King Ranperre. Rampart, wasn’t so sure this was going to be the adventure the twins had in mind, but followed none the less giving Raiden a comforting smile and chasing off after them. At their speed they reached the tomb in only a few hours, and the mages stopped for a breather.

“You could at least pretend to be tired Rampart, so we don’t look so bad!“ Phyree huffed jokingly.

Rampart smiling widely didn’t even have time to rattle off a witty retort before a blur of incorporeal black whipped past his head, Raiden, growling aloud shot after the blur teeth bared, he knew the drill. Yekan and Phyree both shirked but still managed to rattle off a spell. One to protect them from
physical harm and the other to dispel what ever magic kept the being invisible from there eyes.

Rampart, annoyed that he had not seen the blur coming, already had his lance out and in a battle stance. Yekan’s spell took effect and the result threw even Rampart off guard, an almost exact replica of himself, but with the same black incorporeal luster to it. The surprise was all the black dragoon needed, and surged towards its victim.

The startled Rampart had no time even to assume a parrying stances as the creature seemed to move on air and whipped him with the blunt side of his lance across the face, toying with him and sending the purple clad warrior to the ground face first knocking his helmet clean off his head.

Above Raiden had caught up with the original blur that seemed to be a Wyvern the same stature as Rampart’s crest, the two fought in passes, dive bombing each other and colliding in mid air in a series of snarls and screeches and the occasional cry of pain. Phyree blasted a powerful spell known as holy in the direction of the black wyvern. Hitting the black wyvern square sent its body sprawling to the ground, even semi-incorporeal objects could be torn apart by the power and strains of magic.

The black figure obviously having fun with his little game spun his lance 180 degrees, tip in the ground and jumped in the air. Rampart knew this as an ability known only by dragoons, and managed to roll to the side as the lance hit the ground and leap to his feet, battle ready once again. Rampart, bleeding from many wounds big and small on the left side of his face, eyes ablaze with rage lunged at the black dragoon, he swung and parried and trusted at this creature, but it managed to escape every move Rampart put on the creature, and jumped back a good ten feet after a few moments of this, it took notice of Yekan and her spell casting.

“Holy” it muttered in a voice that seemed distance and cold.

Rampart side stepped in front of the mages lance ready and Raiden diving in on his left flank.

“You really don’t remember me do you Cotesirau?” came the voice in the heads of the adventures, cold and distant.

The seeming undead creature rushed again with incredible speed. Rampart already adapting to this new speed managed to parry the blunt of the attack and force the spear tip up and it dug heavily into his shoulder, catching under a plate and bursting out of the back side of his shoulder. The black dragoon spun to the side letting his lance dissolve inside ramparts shoulder and disappeared as Yekan’s blast of holy was ready to rip the beast to pieces.

Rampart like a good knight took the blow and held his ground, but fell to his knees after the black dragoon disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

“What in the hell was th--” Rampart breathlessly managed to say.

“Shut your mouth silly Dragoon” Phyree said in all seriousness examining the wound.

“I think I have just the thing” Yekan said standing up in front of the wounded Dragoon.

Phyree helped support him, as Yekan cast a half score of spells on Rampart. After the few moments Rampart was feeling better but still mentally exhausted from the confrontation, Raiden who had only seemed to receive a few minor bruises and scratches was unphased and perky as usual.

He picked up his helmet and examined it, the magic ingrained in the fabric of the headgear saved it from any real damage, and saved his head form any drastic amount of damage. He strapped it back on kept his lance ready with him from then on.

They walked into the old Tomb of King Ranperre, Rampart silent and leading the way as if stalking prey, Yekan and Phyree could only wonder what kind of adventure they had gotten themselves into this time.

“I wonder what that was about, and who is Cotesirau?” Phyree whispered to her companion.

“I don’t know but that thing looked a lot like Rampart didn’t it?” Yekan said nodding.

“Yes, but for some reason I think its more than just it looking like him we have to worry about” Phyree with a hand placed curiously on her chin.

Rampart turned to regard them with a stern look that ended the contemplating of what had transpired in the last hour. Phyree and Yekan looked at each other with a frightened curious look. Then in unison they noted the solemn dragoon leading the way through the old grave.

“I dare say we have gotten ourselves in over our heads Yekan” Phyree whispered.

“Nonsense” Yekan chimed back quietly.

The party walked along the narrow stone paths into the darkness that loomed over King Ranperre’s Tomb, not sure of what had exactly transpired that morning. With the same thought looming in all of the parties members, who was this black dragoon, what connections did he have with Ramparts master and why is he targeting him.