Pangerath

                                                        Chapter One



                                                  The Future is Born





Pangerath, a strange and curious lost continent hidden in the oceans of earth, unseen by the technologies of modern man, save for the few who happen to cross it’s path.



Since the dawn of time forces unknown have preserved the land protecting its secrets from the outside world while keeping most who live here from leaving its mystical borders. Tales and stories of its existence have circulated for millennia.  Some who have caught a glimpse of this mysterious island mistakenly called it the lost continent of Atlantis. Some who were in its proximity have disappeared leading to the notions of the Bermuda triangle or the lost lands of Lemuria in the Indian oceans as well as the submerged continent of Zealandia.



All can be true of Pangerath It's beauty rivals Platos accounts of Atlantis, it's secrets more perplexing than that of the Bermuda triangle.But make no mistake there is only one Pangerath.



The inhabitants of Pangerath believe that their land is the only land, which includes an assortment of smaller Islands that surround and shift with Pangerath, all evolving at a much slower pace than that of modern man, who, at this time are in the year 2009 and living across the great waters to the south.  It is Pangeraths dark ages. A time of tested friendships and loyalties.  An age of good and evil, goblins, wizards, witches, trolls, dragons and heroic knights - as well as various other strange and magical creations walk this land.



Rolling hills and harmoniously flowing green grass lay paths through strong and sturdy oaks and giant redwoods.  There, accompanying the mighty trees is a magical forest which runs along the south west side of the island all the way up to the north where it vanishes into lake Tyrn.



Lake Tyrn separated by the valley of twin lakes, empties into the great oceans to the east and west, then, there is Lake Windemere with its spidery network of converging streams, rivers and wetlands runs north to south following the tree lined path of the magical forest up past and through the valley of twin lakes finally resting and stretching its mouth, swallowing the cold and pure melted ice from the frozen Hellwyn Mountains. Waters that help supply relief to all of Pangerath, its crops and grasslands as well as all its inhabitants finally flushing into the great ocean in the south.



The lands from north to south and east to west are divided by three kingdoms each with their respective boundaries proclaimed by flags mounted on poles at various locations throughout their lands, they are at peace.



The royalty write the laws by which the villages residing inside their borders must abide by, garrisons of knights protect these borders and uphold these laws.



All three monarchs are content to rule their respective lands with little to no war, but for how long they can hold onto their land, is about to be challenged.



Unopposed; one cruel and immoral wizard, will alone try to bring death and destruction to them all.



He is no longer content to just destroy small villages and enslave some of its women and children while murdering the male population.



He longs to conquer them all and enforce his will. His time has come to put his ultimate plan into action. His name is Malus.



A sorcerer of sorcerers, his knowledge of the arts is unequalled. Many have tested his power  - they.... are no longer.



Some admiring this power stand by his side serving his lust , his four harbingers of death.



A storm is brewing in lower Pangerath above King Jyls castle in the kingdom of Lithuran in lower Pangerath. As the cold wind blows and winter begins its encroachment, trees shed their multi coloured leaves and prepare to take on the bite of winter.  Dark clouds gather and wrestle in the night sky creating powerful winds that toss about the autumn leaves into a whirlwind.  Proud trees bend to the breaking point, thick branches succumb and are carried off by the strong winds embrace.



The Kings castle, stands alone in the darkness and cold of night, surrounded by large stone walls, a deep and wide moat 2 feet wide runs along the outside walls; a drawbridge imbedded in the stone walls to the south serves as the only entry point inside.  Massive guard towers on each corner of the walls hold 100s of archers as do the walkways connecting the towers, it is lit up by huge black cauldrons of hot oil that are at each corner and when need be, the burning hot oil would be poured into the trenches which run along the base of the walkway, emptying through small holes located every few inches raining down onto unsuspecting armies below.



The dark clouds twisting in the night sky begin to slow as if they wish to see what is to happen below.  They break slightly, opening to a full moon - a hunters moon lighting the battlefield below and revealing the intruding army of black armoured knights mounted on their armour laden horses. Holding long serrated lances and standing at the rear of goblins they await their orders.



Goblins , greenish wiry creatures wearing old putrid torn clothes. Mischievous runts with a hatred of humans, their  mouths open wide displaying hundreds of blackened thorn like teeth, they stand hunched over and huffing creating chunky fowl smelling drool  in anticipation of the fight to come. A long bony narrow nose curved downwards to a point just above thier upper lip as well as large pointed ears give goblins their grotesque look.  At a height of only 4 feet and brandishing small swords, their love of war echoes in there black eyes .  Side by side they stand with huge muscle ridden fair skinned orc's, wearing loin cloths around their waists with spiked leather armour on their shoulders and wrists.  Orc’s tower above the humans and goblins alike - eight to ten feet tall, fangs protrude on each side of their lower lip, small pointed ears and little to no hair as well as a constant snarl make their demeanour devilish and unsightly. 



Resting on their massive shoulders, are large war hammers of thick wood shafts imbedded in stones of different shapes and sizes.  With a hatred of man and a love of war, they stand and wait grunting heavily at the fight to come. They have all come because of their desire for war and carnage or maybe for fear of Malus’s retaliation should they not heed his call.



Malus stands atop a hill in the distance overlooking his army and the poorly defended castle ahead, a tall foreboding figure dressed in a long black robe trimmed with red inscriptions.  A hood covers his head, darkening his face inside for none to see. He has been in solitude in the underworld to the far southeast corner of Pangerath enlisting his army of destruction for the sole purpose of conquering all the lands and enforcing his will; to be Lord of Pangerath is his reason, to be feared is his inspiration.



Without a word he stretches out his right arm high into night sky, gripping hard his black crystal staff beneath his left hand forcing it deep into the earth.  His army below acknowledges and commences their assault on King Jyls castle.



The Kings army of knights on foot and horse are gather outside in front of the moat surrounding the castle defending the drawbridge behind them.  The Kings ground defence stand nervous but ready.  Their eyes show the horror of what may be their last battle, for they have not seen war and are not battle tested, but this is their home and their way of life is being assaulted; so they wait. 



At the kings order, the towers holding the archers grab their arrows that are in containers of oil and flames hidden at their feet.  Raising their bows and drawing back their flaming arrows they release sending a steel toothed shroud of flame through the air, shadowing the moon above, lighting the ground below penetrating Malus’s army.  Screams of anguish break the silence, as arms, legs, heads and torso are pierced with the burning metal tipped arrows setting some targets clothing ablaze. 



The knights and foot soldiers follow suit and march forward; the armour and chain mail clad soldiers pull down their metal visors, raise their bronze spears under their right arms.  Held under their left arms, are their body length bronze rectangular shields with the crest of Lithuran - an open winged hawk surrounded in flames.  In the center of the crest a protruding metal spike.



Side by side the soldiers create a wall of metal spiked shields, with a roar they step slowly forward, hollering with each step, clashing their spears to shield creating a thunderous sound of metal on metal trying but failing to intimidate their foes. After a short march they finally meet the advancing Orc's and goblins; it has begun.



Screams of agonizing death shatter the once peaceful lands, as soldiers, knights and horse alike, fall helplessly to the onslaught of Malus’s army. King Jyls men are no match for the pure strength and fortitude of this army, the abominations before them have no regard for life so they fear not nor care as they slash and swing there massive weapons at the fear ridden opponents in front of them, at times killing their allies in the process .



The land once pure and green is now blanketed with the bodies of the fallen, feet soaked with blood march onward to death or glory, which ever may come first. Orc's rip arms from torso, goblins slice and bite off pieces of the opponents flesh veiling their faces in mans blood. With not even a thought of the fallen friend or foe in front of them, they step on or over the bodies as they advance. Malus’s army along with his 4 Harbingers, very tall and slim wizards, tattoos of the elements they represent cover their heads, as well as other cryptic symbols covering every inch of their faces. Wearing coloured robes to match their skills white for ice, red for fire, blue for wind and dark brown for earth , they stand wielding staffs that support small animated crystal balls of fire, ice, earth and wind magic’s.  They are all self taught masters of their respective magic’s. At once the four step forward and begin their attack. Summoning their magic’s with their staffs held straight out and aimed at the archers high above in the towers, enveloping them in flames and ice, Using wind magic to summon gusts of powerful winds sweeping some of the archers off their towers tossing them  to their death's below.



After only an hour or so of fighting they are at the drawbridge to the castle, the night still young and tainted with the sounds of the fallen, moans of anguish reflecting the slaughter.



Malus points his black staff at the drawbridge, with a yell “incendia” , a ball of flame hits the castle gate incinerating the wooden obstacle, smake and flame ridden debris remains where once a drawbridge resided. The earth harbinger  lowers his staff to the ground “pontis”, the ground rumbles beneath and in front of his feet then rises before them producing a land bridge to the inside of the once fortified castle and their eventual victory inside. It is all but over now, Malus’s army enter the walls and kill the remaining residents without prejudice, young and old, man, woman and child alike, he has no regard for life only his twisted quench for his power and his rule.



Entering the great hall where King Jyl, his wife and two sons the tender age of not more than ten, tremble at his side, King Jyl's trembling hand on sword points at Malus demanding “Take me but spare my family, all shall be yours Malus”.  With a sinister laugh  "All is mine",  he tilts his head back then abruptly forward yelling “frendo” towards the King and his family, the air around seem to draw into the family crushing them within themselves, they’re screams tear throughout the castle walls, at once the screams stop as the family fall to the ground, where once there was life now only skeletons of skin remain, where once there were eyes now only black apertures. The castle and surrounding lands once ruled by a just and peaceful man is now in the hands of Malus.



Turning to the harbingers with a look of arrogance upon his face he says “leave no stone unturned, no lives shall be spared save for the children, send them to Seta, let this be a testament to my power my resolve, and a warning to all who oppose me”  he turns and walks away with his head held high, his staff matching each step of his right foot hitting the floor with authority,  ‘Destroy it all’. The harbingers bow their heads as he walks by ‘It shall be done my lord’.



Meanwhile a distance from the castle in middle Pangerath and a lifetime away from the horrors of Malus, stands a wooded home nestled on the shores of Lake Windemere.

A glow emanates from within as candles flicker, the wooden walls stay some of the chill of night, the home of Helen Dius, a gentle woman with skin seemingly untouched by time, like un-aged porcelain, long blonde wavy hair and eyes as blue as the skies to the north. A radiance surrounds her, and all who have the pleasure to meet her feel its embrace.

She had just returned from the magical forest and a meeting between her and her sisters, a meeting of the white witches. Normally the witches stay together in the magical forest, but Helen being a free spirit loves the solitude and having a home of her own. To relax at home and contemplate the meeting is all she requires tonight, but a shiver entices her to raise her hand and utter  “ignis” at the stone fireplace , engulfing the tinder and logs inside, as the flames dance , she sits watching with a quilt and gathers her thoughts in her rocking chair near the fireplace, she can faintly hear the trot of horses in the distance getting closer, paying no mind as many travel by due to her proximity to the lake .



Suddenly the door flies open and a gust of cold wind enters, followed by a man, , not just any man but a towering figure with broad shoulders and skin as pale as snow, dressed in black robes, the top of his head covered with a red metal plate that comes to a point towards the center of his forehead, in his left hand he holds a black crystal staff and at the top lays a red glowing crystal supported by what seems to be a skeleton hand, his eyes are black and empty as if no soul has ever resided within. She recognizes him as the evil sorcerer Malus who is on his way back with his army to the underworld after destroying King Jyls castle. He looks towards her and with a roar he yells in a gargled voice “ventus” a powerful wind grabs hold and throws Helen across the room hitting the wall at the other end, dazed and bleeding from her brow she yells back “custodia” and is instantly surrounded by a protective field. Smiling; Malus walks towards her with a dark grin, a snarl forms on his upper lip “Do you think your witches magic can stop my power; I have a message for you and your witch sisters, I will find your village in the forest and destroy every last witch, none are safe, this, the land and all who dwell within are my subjects to do with as I see fit, starting with you witch , be grateful; for I might let you live, a while longer” he laughs. “Domito” as he raises his hands slowly penetrating the force shield protecting her, grasping her throat. Unable to move by his dominating curse, she gasps for air as he carries her into her bedroom and slams the door behind. The future has taken place in the present, the seed is sewn.



Morning breaks as Malus opens the bedroom door; Helen weary and laying across her bed faintly hears him whisper “ego vomica vos ut nex” her head then fall back down to the bed unconscious, Malus continues on outside mounts his horse “we go” he says to his army awaiting him, turning his horse towards the south he and his army leave.



Days turn to weeks for Helen as she tries to forget that horrible night she has hidden from even her sister witches. For many days now she has been having pains in her stomach and vomiting. One day her dear friend Victoria Nobal, queen of the white witches stopped by, a truly beautiful woman with long black wavy hair and eyes as green as jade, wearing a fitted white dress and a large white wide brimmed witches hat; a uniform all the white witches wear “you do not look well my sister is all ok?” remarks Victoria with a worried look upon her face. “Well my queen. my friend, I am with child”, looking amazed Victoria grabs Helens hand “how can this be, you did not attend the gathering”. Helen relays that horrible night some moons ago and how Malus came to her.



“The child is his!” says Victoria with a look of shock. “Yes and what’s more he has cursed me as well, with ego vomica vos ut nex” . In horror Victoria looks straight into Helens eyes “the curse of death.....  oh sister”.

Victoria hangs her head, In a sombre voice she says “I shall stay with you until the time has come for the child to be born”. “Thank you , I pray the child is not cursed as well, and I pray the child does not follow in the fathers shadow” remarks Helen. Victoria almost in tears says “I will look in the book of spells to see if we cannot reverse this curse set upon you”.



Seasons come and go. Nine months, nine days and on the ninth hour  the seed has finally outgrown it's shell, the baby inside awaits his first breath. The skies around Helens home have turned to black , clouds run through the air and clash with each other creating violent thunderstorms whilst stabbing the sky with bolts of lightning, followed by a rain as dense as the magical forest, as if the heavens cry an impending doom.

Helen lays weak and sweating in her bed pleading for the pain to stop. Her dear friend Victoria sits on a chair beside the bed and tries to sooth her friend with warm cloths and reassuring words, to no avail, the pain is to great, for the curse as well has chosen this day to attack her at her most vulnerable. For every birth there is a death, Malus has seen to that.

Hours later and a final scream, a boy is born.

Holding her new baby she names him Tristan. Looking down at him Victoria remarks “he has your eyes and golden hair Helen, he is.... beautiful”.



Helen turns and looks at Victoria and with a drained voice whispers I pray all will be fine with my son, for I cannot forget the final words of Malus. Victoria lowering her head into her hands says “I have looked at the book of spells and consulted Master Ladon of Wizards Cavern and there is no known reversal of the curse except by the caster himsel.... “ in a tortured voice Helen interupts "as long as my son is safe, is all that matters as she hands Victoria her baby.



Please promise me you will protect and watch over him, tell him about his mother and how much she wished she could have been with him to love him and protect him herself”. Gripping the sides of the bed she raises her head in pure agony and with her last laboured breath she cries, “please do not tell him of how he came to be or of his father” a calm is in the air, the storm has passed, like the  nomadic storm one minute it is here then  moves on so it is with Helen, she is no longer.



A bright white light slowly begins to leave her body,  her head falls slowly to the left, her eyes close for her final sleep. Victoria holds Tristan to her own breast , lowers her head, with tears running down her cheek she whispers “you shall know all my magic’s and all the Magic’s of the lands, then you will bring justice to Malus and evil shall no longer ravage this land”. Standing up with Tristan in her arms, Victoria grabs her hat off the chair walks outside stands facing the wooden home, looking down at Tristan and raising her right Hand to the house she utters “ ignis”, a flame ignites the doorway to the home, she turns and walks away heading West towards the forest and her home.



Behind her the home of her dearest friend is engulfed in flames she stops, turns her head, looking at the fire she gently closes her eyes, nods then continues on her way. The hidden sun finally starts to show itself as its rays light the once darkened sky and warm the ground beneath her feet as she walks, eventually meeting the tree line to the magical forest.



Golden rays of sun barely penetrate the thick brush in front of her, but knowing her home and its surroundings she manoeuvres through a thin opening between two trees heading deep into the center of the forest and her hidden home. The magical forest is a place home to the white witches and many other magical creatures it is dense with vegetation and brush, enormous trees standing tall and strong deep within the forest protect and house the witches, the trees, giant oaks and redwoods stand seamlessly side by side creating the village of white witches acting as a barricade of defence against intruders, should they know it’s were-abouts.

Victoria finally reaches the center of the forest, the fallen leaves rustle beneath her feet, owls, high in the tree tops announce her arrival into the forest. As she arrives at the trunk of the grandest of the trees............



I have more but trying to learn to edit  better, spruce it up...