The Bæstyr Chronicles is going to be an ongoing story, with multiple 'books' and chapters. The languages used, apart from English, are Norweigan and Latin. If it's wrong, blame Google translate. Also, it's totally not a rip off of Skyrim, just saying. If I finish it in time, Book I (or the first part of it at least) will be entering the WWC.
First Capture Attempt: For Sandile, Poliwag and Tynamo.
Characters Needed: 35k - 65k
Currently (as of chapter 2): 26708
BOOK I: AQUA ET TERRA
T H E___J O U R N E Y
The goblin approached Erikkson cautiously, taking care not to tread on any of the bodies of the other goblins, dead and scattered on the floor. It was a disgusting creature in every sense of the word. It was small, only around one-and-a-half yards high, and about half as wide. It had putrid skin – a deep green colour – which was covered in mud and dust, in addition to all of the warts and boils speckled around its face. The creature had long, black, greasy hair which just the sight of it made anyone want to throw up. It's teeth were its worst feature – yellow and mouldy, crooked and many were missing. It's body was hidden behind an old rag that he must have found at some point; it was an unattractive style, and the flimsy material would do him no good in any battle or war. The cloth stretched down to its knees, hiding its manlihood. Its fingernails were both uncut and cracked with dirt caked underneath the claws. It was holding an iron mace (all Goblins weapon of choice) with a rough wooden handle and a bludgeoned metal head. Its potent stench, not unlike that of a rotting cattle, infiltrated the nose of Erikkson even at a distance – it was the main reason he was so prepared for the goblin ambush. It was customary for them not to wear any footwear, although as an experienced Nord like Erikkson could tell you, it was also a foolish decision. The goblins were the laughing stock of Va'ora, and their fruitless attempts at getting equal had driven them into seclusion, only coming out of their mountain homes to attempt to pillage the vastly stronger villages and towns.
The hated creature knew that its time, in this world at least, was over. It muttered a few words in it's language, possibly in prayer, before charging forward, mace drawn, in one final attempt to defeat the experienced fighter. It got within a few feet of Erikkson before swinging wildly, hoping to bury the hit anywhere onto the fighter. Erikkson gave a short laugh, before deflecting the swing with his longsword and followed through with a thrust which shot straight through the hated creatures internal organs and through the other side. A look of shock spread over it's face, and limply fell to the floor. Erikkson drew his sword before using his dead foes clothing to wipe the sickly yellow blood from his favourite weapon. The battle was relatively easy – all six of the assailants had perished. A quick Nord prayer: “Selv etter liv kan du bestige,” and then he carried on to hunt for food for the small village he lived in.
Erikkson was in his mid-twenties. He was heavily built, and he had a lot of muscular strength and endurance. He had no hair apart from his blonde beard that stretched down to his chest. He had many scars all over his body, and he wore them with honour and pride. He often walked around in his light armour, created from the hides of various wolves and foxes. Although he only used this protection in very few places on his body, he carried a shield made of the finest wood and mithril. He wore leather leggings to keep himself somewhat warm in the harsh Scandinavian winter months, and simple fur boots. As far as his weaponry was concerned, he was covered. He had his longsword, passed down his family line generation after generation – many an enemy had died by the blade of Erikkson's sword. As a backup, he carried a one handed axe, crafted by the village smith, Master Finn, though it didn't quite have the same history as his other killing tool. Whenever it's necessary, it's also worth noting that Erikkson was an accomplished archer, and could hit a Goblin from sixty yards, though he much preferred close combat, and saw long range fighting as cowardice.
He was out in the plains just a few miles from his house, his turn to go out hunting for food for the entire village, and it wasn't the nicest place. The floor was rocky and hard, and there was none of the picturesque greenery or natural wonders that you could see elsewhere around Va'ora. Yes, there were mountains, but you wouldn't like to go climbing or hiking around here, or you would have met the same, scummy creatures that Erikkson met earlier – the Goblins resided in the intricate cave system they formed. It was actually surprisingly well worked for something that they themselves created. There was a small stream that ran past his village of Jargsburg which continued flowing to where the Nord was now, and possibly a lot further – Erikkson hadn't been much past the point he was at now due to the dangers of other creatures such as the brave Hawks, crafty Elves and extremely strong trolls. It was even rumoured that beyond the mountains lived a fierce dragon that lived deep underground, but it was not true. Dragons were just the stuff of legends, just another myth passed down generation after generation.
After around fifteen minutes of solid walking, the Nord had found a herd of buffalo walking towards the nearby stream. He scouted each of them, trying to find the finest one to carry home to the hungry children. He chose one of the healthiest creatures, before proceeding to draw out his axe and slicing the head off of the creature. Seeing a threat, the other buffalo began to sprint away in every direction as the slayed cattle slumped to the floor. “Nice and simple,” Erikkson thought, smiling to himself. He put the axe back in it's sheath and lifted the buffalo onto his shoulder blades. He struggled slightly as he fought to regain his balance but eventually he managed to right himself and set off slowly back to Jargsburg.
The journey back was a struggle, but a mostly safe journey home. The watchtower guards, seeing the buffalo, climbed down from their posts, opened the heavy gates and rushed over to help the man. Dragging it in, they proceeded to lump it down next to a large fire that the villagers kept burning. The large horned beast would be ready by supper at the very latest.
The village was quite small compared to the larger towns in the region they lived in, Va'ora, such as Kaldtbyen and Den Jerngruver, though they had the essentials needed for a sustainable life. All of the buildings were hand built from wood carried down from the mountains. The roofs were made from straw, donated by the village farm. There was a smith for the creation of weapons from raw materials such as steel and mithril, and a family of bards who travelled around the world in the search of strange and exotic items to sell for a hefty price. Another source of food and resources came from the aforementioned farm and the mill next to it. This provided wool, milk and grain for the people (the animals were rarely culled, as there were very few). And of course, there was the village tavern and inn, where many adventurers head to after a long day.
Erikkson continued walking past the houses, wanting to visit his mother, father and grandfather – it had been several days since he had last dropped in. They all still shared a close relationship even after all these years, much like all of the families in Jargsburg. Family honour was one of the most important values of life in Va'ora, and during tough times they always kept together to comfort and condole with one another. Unfortunately for the hero in this story, it was going to be one of these moments, as he was about to find out now.
He grasped the brass handle with his right hand, still slightly bloodied from the Goblins and buffalo, and pulled softly to open the door; if he wanted to, he could rip it off it's hinges without putting too much effort in. He stepped inside the house, and almost everything was as it was just a few days ago. There were just two rooms. One, a combined kitchen and living room, was in immaculate condition – his parents like to keep the household tidy in case of any surprise visitors; they were an average, middle-class family, not some filthy lower-class beggars. There were beautifully crafted stools all around a single table, a carpet made from the skin of a bear and fabulous paintings drawn from a master artist. In the kitchen area, there were one or two knifes on the smooth wooden bench, but everything else was tidily put away in the cupboards. There was a curious sound coming from the bedroom, a sniffle, as if somebody was weeping. And then the unmistakeable crying sound came – there was something wrong.
“Mother?” Erikkson called. His deep voice carried through the building, but there was no answer to the man. “Father? Are you here?” Yet again, no answer. Just the quiet, queer sobbing sound. Erikkson tread slowly, just in the off chance it wasn't who he believed it to be. “Grandfather, you must-”
There was a wail as soon as the first word left his mouth. He jogged into the bedroom, to see his grandfather laying in his own bed, Erikkson's parents kneeling by the side. This room, unlike the other one, was modest in comparison. It was a much smaller size, and there were a lack of decorations hanging from the wall or on a cabinet. There were two beds, one which was his grandfather's, and one which his parents shared. The grandfather was not looking well, as if he was tired. But due to the combination of his pale looks and the sorrow of his parents, he figured it was much more serious than that. Unsure of what to say, his father began to explain. “Your grandfather has fallen seriously ill, and we fear that he is on his last legs. We're... we're paying our last respects for him. We're expecting the worst.
“Erikkson...” the elderly man croaked. He was one of the most famed of the Nords – at least in the village; his local popularity because of the experiences he has had in the past. He had won many a battle, and had many scars to prove his strength. He was the most well travelled of all of Jargsburg and had offered countless pieces of important and even life-saving advice. Just a few years ago, he was made a village elder by the community after one had passed away. “I have some valuable information for you, and as selfish as it seems, there's something I was researching that must be continued.” He turned to my parents. “Helga, Ragnar. This is for Erikkson's ears only. I respect that you want to know, but it is for his ears only. A private quest for him and someone else who's capable. I mean no offence, but you're starting to age and you might not be able to endure what I need completing.”
Helga and Ragnar, Erikkson's parents nodded and left, respecting the dying mans wish. They went into the main room, shutting the door behind them. The grandfather follow them with his eyes, before turning to face Erikkson as the door was closed.
“Now,” he said. “Recently, as you may know, I've been out wandering, seeing the world before I Ascend. But I've not just been sightseeing, I've been partaking on a dangerous quest. Now, recently, I've been interested in something called the Monstra Sinus legend. After hearing about it, I went out searching for a confirmation of it's existence. I've searched in numerous caves, trekked up mountains, swum in many lakes just to find a source. And I've found one.” Erikkson's grandfather picked up a red book from the side of his bed. It was in great condition, despite being a little dusty. “On my travels, I found this book, titled FABULA: Anallium Monstra Sinus. After reading it, I was shocked to find that there may be many different species of beast undiscovered in the distant reaches of Va'ora. While this may not be so shocking at first, it's worth noting that these beasts can harness the eight sacred elements. Here, have a read of the book. It will hopefully explain it better than I would.”
Erikkson took the book, a little sceptical. Beasts which can use the power of the eight elements? It was to crazy to be true. He opened the book to the first page, and began to read.
Many millennia ago, Va'ora was nothing. Just a vast realm of nothingness. All that there was was Arceus, the mightiest and strongest of all the Gods. And then, Arceus created the elements, all eight of them, each represented by a different God. These Gods took the form of all-powerful beasts, named the Bæstyr. They each had a powerful cry, which allowed the energy to surge through their body and allowed the element to be utilized to maximum potential. The full list of Gods is as follows:
-KYOGRE, GOD OF AQUA
-GROUDON, GOD OF TERRA
-HO-OH, GOD OF IGNIS
-LUGIA, GOD OF AERIS
-LATIOS, GOD OF ANIMUS
-LATIAS, GOD OF ANIMA
-CRESSELIA, GOD OF LUX
-DARKRAI, GOD OF TENEBRAE
Each of the Bæstyr and Arceus discussed forming a new world, one which they could look after and keep safe. One which they could create with ease. A perfect world. But then, the tensions began to rise. Agreements couldn't be met, and there was a holy war. There were no sides, just a mass free-for-all, the mightiest battle that was ever recorded. Arceus, being fair, ended the battle and banished the Gods to different parts of Va'ora, to the north, to the south, to the east and to the west. These Bæstyr are said to live in caverns, in complete secrecy from the rest of the region, forming their own part of the world to the way that they wanted it. And Arceus decided to take over and change the center area of Va'ora so that it was a fair place, full of good people. But the Bæstyr were not satisfied. They decided to form their own minions to do their bidding, and these were called Litbæstyr. The Litbæstyr were of all different sizes and strength, and adapted to the environment they lived in. Some say that even nowadays the Bæstyr are still at war, shaping the edges of Va'ora. And if they carry on, the elements will soon awaken the mighty dragon, Alkvifor who resides in the mountains in the center, created to keep peace between the Bæstyr, which will surely spell the end of Va'ora as we know it.
Erikkson looked back up at his grandfather. “So, I'm guessing you want me to slay these 'Bæstyr' so that the world doesn't end? It can't be too difficult, can it?”
“You must remember that these monsters are not of this world. They are supernatural, and are insanely powerful. It will be a lot harder than you expect. You will need to befriend some of the Litbæstyr in order to destroy them. In addition, I would like you to take someone else with you. A female. Her name is Ulrika, and I hear she has a special knack for befriending animals.”
“But grandfather, I don't want to go with her. I want to travel alone, to show my strength!”
“No!” He retaliated with surprising strength. “Trust me, she will be vital in your quest. She lives in the next village along, Actok, and she will be expecting you soon. Her parents own the farm, I'm sure that they'll lend you a horse. Make haste young one, and save all of Va'ora!” He gave one last look of great expectation before going silent. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't breathing. He had died.
“Grandfather, I promise you that I'll fulfill your dying wishes. I will slay all of the Bæstyr and stop Alkvifor!"