The Crimson Dawn (part 1) - Found Fragments IX

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The Crimson Dawn (part 1)

Found Fragments - Part IX

Acidrik Gutsplitter

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''The World of Twelve was plunged into an era of darkness. No-one knew it yet but the soft, harmonious aura of the Dofus in which the World had previously bathed had been tainted. The didorder which started creeping its way across the territories was to continue until war burst out between Bonta and Brakmar, the two cities born from the eneavours of the protectros of the months.''

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The story of the knights of the Order of the Valiant Heart should have been part of History with a capital H - the one written about in books, the one for which statues are erected. Guided by Menalt the centaur, their tragic destiny should have been narrated by all the heralds and bards of the World of Eleven, and set in stone to travel on through the ages... But nay! This was not to be, such was the fear their fate inspired in those who heard about it. If their story has survived long enought to reach our ears, it is only because it was recounted secretly, in low voices during late-night gatherings... a warning to foolhardy and careless youths.

Besides these whispered night-time stories, there is no proof to be found, as all the knights disappeared, body and soul, on one cold night in Septangel. It was at the beginning of the World...

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Rushu had crushed a piece of Xelor's Clock and imposed Djaul as the protector of Descendre. Since then, the World had lived in the fearful shadow of Rushu's henchman, who had killed the great Solar with his own hands. And though his attempt at stealing the Dofus guarded by Aguabrial had been unsuccessful, it had led to the birth of a quick-tempered and unpredictable dragon named Bolgrot. Something told Djaul that, sooner or later, he would be able to use the dragon to his advantage. All of this created a sense of instability across the World, and the protective aure of the Dofus became sullied by such intense greed...

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Despite this, Rushu remained unsatisfied. The lord of the demons wanted to become a god too, to be venerated by followeres made in his image. But he hand been refused! And a goddess called Sacrier had snatched his place in the pantheon for herself! By way of compensation, Rushu had asked Djaul to build a whole city in his honour. This city would become his temple, and would have his followers! For Rushu intended to convert the other gods' disciples to worship him: they would sport red wings and would look like demons! And that's how the city of Brakmar, built in one nithg by Rushu himself, was devoted to the demon lord's sect...

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Xelor, meanwhile, had decided that Jiva was worthy of succeeding Solar. He had also askd Menalt centaur warrior and commander of the Order of Valiant Heart, to be the protector of Martalo, the month of storms and showers. Menalt accepted. Just like Jiva and Pouchecot, the protectors of Javian and Frauguctor respectively, he had moved into the brand new city of Bonta. One month had been long enough for the three protectors to build the city, with the help of the ten gods. The city was built to counter the rise of Brakmar and Rushu's following. A year passed before it faced its firts battle.

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Septangel 12 of the year 26. The dawn was cold, and light could barely penetrate the morning gloom. The Bontarian outposts, held by the knights of the Order, were white with the first signs of frost, the sentinels numb from the early onset of winter. They huddled around the brazirs, trying in vain to warm up. The forest, whose multitude of little noises usually started rustling into like at this hour of the morning, was completely silent, but for a cry that had been heard several times during the night. At first, the sentinels had paid in no heed, but now they squinted into the distance towards its apparent source in the south. The cry - surely produced by some completely ordinary creature, they told themselves - had got closer.

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The faction captain suspected some kind of ruse from the enemy. The Brakmarians had been very quiet lately, probably too quiet. He sent a messenger to Bonta. Suddenly, the dark stillness before them started to toss restlessly; there was something moving, just out of view of the sentinels! After a few astonished seconds, they rushed to the alarm bells... but it was too late! A wild clamour drowned out the ringin. The kinghts heard the echo of drumbeats. They were under attack! Troops piled up on both sides of the mounts of Sidimote and streamde down towards them. The commotion shook the very earth. And still, daylight could not break through.

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In Bonta, Jiva had raised the alarm and was preparing the militia: if the attack reached the city, the would have to face the enemy. She urged the defenders, stationing archers at arrow slits and infantrymen behind the doors. They could hear the muffled pounding of the marching troops from beyond the outer walls. The enemy was gaining ground, and fast! This was not a good sign... Now Menalt and Pouchecot were at Jiva's side. After a quick exchange, the three of them reached an agreement. Jiva would be in charge of the city's defence. By common accord, Menalt and Pouchecot each took the head of a squad composed of fifty knights of the Order of the Valiant Heart, a good half of whom were centaurs obeying Menalt's orders, and the rest of whom were ferociously armed infantry.

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Swords drawn, they rusehd out to help their comrades, bellowing "Bonta shall triumph!". Alas! Far away in the distance, the outposts had been swallowed up the by horde of goblings. No fewer than forty kinghts had perished and were now engulfed by the swelling mass. Reinforcements had arrived too late. The Bontarian troops sped up and the centaurs galloped faster than ever. The goblins were no doubt just the start of the attack being launched against Bonta.

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Enemies swarmed before them. Dawn seemed to be suspended, the night never-ending. Suddenly, a jet of pale grey flames blazed over the goblin troops, casting a weak light over the battle. That sinister cry sounded once more. The Brakmarians had swept away the Bontarian outposts. In front of him, Menalt watched in dismay as the last knights were chasd and finished off by Karne Riders. They were commanded by a Brakmarian captain, a dark Iop who himself stayed back from the frontline.

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"Brakmar's forces are considerable but not invincible!" said Pouchecot. "Your centaurs must smash into the sides of the enemy troops. The goblins will be closed in from both sides. Then I'll crush them and we can take on the Brakmarian war chiefs with our full force! You know as well as I that most creatures under Brakmarian command are unruly, brainlees brutes. They'll flee if their commandment is beheaded. Then we'll deal with whatever's producing that devilish cry!" Menalt nodded solemnly.

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The knights surged in to attack the goblin troops... Slaughter! Carnage! Massacre! The Bontarian heroes brandished their blades and their breastplates were spattered with fresh blood with each blow! They finally stopped to cath their breath. The knights gathered around Mentald and Pouchecot. They hadn't borne any losses, just a few surface wounds. Menalt took a look around him to size up the extent of the battl'es damage. The attack had gone well. Very well. Too well. The centaur scanned the surroundings for the dark Iop he had spotted earlier. The warrior had joined the rest of the Brakmarian troops and now appeared to be harnessing the troops' thrist for violence. Why hadn't this army of Chafer skeletons come to save the goblins...? Menalt realised they had made a mistake. A deafening cry split the darkness, accompanied by another flash of grey lightning. They goblins had been a trap! The worst was yet to come...