Login or register. (You can now login/register with your social networks.)

Locations
Other
Water
4.81
8 Votes

64xp


Hits: 5177
Comments: 11
Ideas: 0
Rating: 4.8125
Condition: Normal
ID: 2056

Submitted:

Updated:
February 1, 2007, 12:38 pm

Vote Hall of Honour
Spark
manfred
Cheka Man
EchoMirage

You must be a member to use HoH votes.
Author Status

Options


Print Friendly and PDF

The Bridge of Fates

By:

At this time an old man, one who told the Prince wondrous tales during his childhood, walked upon the bridge and witnessed the prince commit suicide, saw him fall into the water. “This is the Bridge of Fates. I foresee great sorrow and happiness. This bridge shall never remain neutral, shall know tears of joy and the blood of innocents”.

During the reign of Khahan Deghul there was a lovely princess, Khao-Mei was her name and she was like a rose among daisies, beautiful yet full of thorns. Vain and proud she was, full of herself and contemptuous of others. Still men fell for her heavenly good looks, her perfect shaped lips and her hauntingly beautiful brown eyes. They fell in love and when stumped, they fell in ruin.

One such suitor was Prince Lehio the Brave, the hero of the Kalthurian war, the slayer of Grund, Lord of Dhalia. He was a popular man bringing cheers and laughter of joy wherever he went. The peasants named their eldest sons after him, the nobility sent their daughters to ask for his hand, and the Khahan himself valued him above all of his Generals. 

Then one day, as the Khahan threw a party to celebrate the conquest of Bloodmoor, Prince Lehio met Princess Khao-Mei and Lehio stopped dead in his tracks, forgot about his followers, a flock of hopeful girls. But Khao-Mei was used to such attention and she discarded it, for she knew not who he was. Later during the feast as the Khahan led his generals and their chosen escorts to the dance floor, Lehio approached the vain Princess, asked for her hand in the dance. “It is Lehio milady, the Slayer of Grund, the hero of the Kalthurian war. Some say he is the Khahan’s favourite and the rumours tell that he was decisive in the Bloodmoor campaign” the words were whispered by one of the Princess’ chambermaids. Her manner suddenly changing, the Princess opened her petals, turned on her charms and the Prince was smitten, struck to his knees by lust and desire, love and foolishness.

For his new won love, the Prince ordered a bridge built from his home isle of Caoju to the mainland city of Dhalia. And as the flowers blossomed in May, they were married in the cathedral; the Khahan even graced the bride with a private word and a blessing before the wedding. Nothing was good enough for his favourite general the people whispered, and he had must have ordered her to be an obedient and good wife. Afterwards the bride and groom walked home from Dhalia. Crossing the bridge they stopped, kissed deep and all the while the people cheered. Their hero had gotten his fairy tale princess. His head swam, tears fell and the people rejoiced.

But there came a time when the Khahan once again went to war and the first to be summoned was Lehio, chosen of the Khahan, hero of the people. So Lehio fought. He fought for his Khahan, he fought for his people, and he fought for his bride. Through the swamps of Kandarra he waded, drenched in the blood of enemies, wounded a dozen times. Through the highlands of Keldon he marched, his men tired beyond humanly possible but still carrying on, inspired by their relentless lord, willing to die if such was his demand. At last Lehio won the war. In the enemy capital of Mothanderon he accepted the former king’s oath of fealty and he returned home, happy, for his bride was waiting.

At the gates of Dhalia the gatemen cried, their heads lowered as he rode into town. Within the city the streets were emptied and only a child yelled “My Prince, My Prince! Do not come!” As he crossed the bridge, the colourful pendants were gone and the fishermen in the ocean took of their hats, lowered their heads. Deeply worried the Prince rode on. Never had he had such a strange welcome. There were no flowers, no shouting maidens, no admiring boys, and no proud and smiling old men. There was only eerie silence.

Entering his compound the Prince looked about. There stood the Princess, silent and cold. She looked as lovely as ever but something had changed. He ran to her, but she rejected him with a cold shoulder, not even offering him as much as a glance or a smile. Confused the Prince went to his bedroom, but unknown soldiers blocked his way. “You may not enter while the Khahan sleeps” the soldiers said. But the Princess could and so she did.

Confused, Lehio meditated in the shrine, prayed to his gods, to his forefathers that what his mind told him was untrue. And there came an answer, as if in a mocking reply, the wind brought moans of pleasure, moans he knew all too well. And Lehio cried.

As the days went on, the Khahan and the Princess flirted openly, walked past the shivering figure of Lehio, even ordered him to fetch them dinner, fruit and wine. Nights brought moaning, the perverted screams of the black bride. At the seventh day Lehio broke.
He went to the river, cold and torn.
He walked the bridge, his soul forlorn.
He pulled his dagger, cried for his whore.
He slit his throat, and was no more.

At this time an old man, one who told the Prince wondrous tales during his childhood, walked upon the bridge and witnessed the prince commit suicide, saw him fall into the water. “This is the Bridge of Fates. I foresee great sorrow and happiness. This bridge shall never remain neutral, shall know tears of joy and the blood of innocents”.

And thus it came to be.

Many years later it was known as the hero’s end, until the sacking of Dhalia when a fleeing flock of school children was cut down by charging cavalry on the bridge. Then some years later a jealous husband drowned his wife, beating her head violently against the stonework and the bridge was thought of as an ominous place, haunted by restless spirits who floated beneath the surface of the water, staring with dead eyes at those who walked upon their grave.

Nowadays the Bridge of Fates is the property of the Dancers of Jhalion. During sunrise they dance in ecstatic circles, praising their lord. During sunset they hold hands and chant, praising the glory of his creation. By their will is the history of the bridge told, generation after generation. By their will was this tale brought to you.



Additional Ideas (0)

Please register to add an idea. It only takes a moment.

Join Now!!



Gain the ability to:
Vote and add your ideas to submissions.
Upvote and give XP to useful comments.
Work on submissions in private or flag them for assistance.
Earn XP and gain levels that give you more site abilities.
Join a Guild in the forums or complete a Quest and level-up your experience.
Comments ( 11 )
Commenters gain extra XP from Author votes.

Voted Spark
December 17, 2005, 17:50
5xp
Wow - that was beautiful. A haunting tale, told exquisitely. I can't really find other words to describe it, so - well, that was amazing work!
MoonHunter
December 17, 2005, 22:35
5xp
I found this tucked in one of the rumor threads in the v1.0 Myth sections. I thought it needed to be its own post. I am glad some one else thought so too.
Voted Michael Jotne Slayer
December 18, 2005, 20:17
5xp
Indeed. Let us know if you find anything else down there!
Voted Dragon Lord
December 19, 2005, 8:36
5xp
Mythic tragedy at its best - 5/5
Voted Murometz
May 18, 2006, 22:50
5xp
You sure know how to spin a tale! the names used are beautiful!
Michael Jotne Slayer
February 27, 2009, 14:52
5xp
BUMPING up the oldschool stuff. With good reason..
Voted EchoMirage
October 20, 2010, 3:31
5xp

Is the best ever good enough? For some, not. A great piece.

Murometz
February 9, 2011, 11:17
5xp

Another exquisite "location"!

We need more of these! Bridges and such, with history and legend behind them!

Voted PoisonAlchemist
August 23, 2011, 4:27
6xp

It was really the small poem that drove this place home for me. 

Voted dark_dragon
November 30, 2011, 6:47
Only voted
Voted valadaar
February 27, 2013, 13:22
0xp
A great location and wonderful piece of local color.

Link Backs

Regions

Freetext



Random Idea Seed View All Idea Seeds

       By: Michael Jotne Slayer

A noble claims that a stranger did not enter the town by any normal means, but trough his mirror. The man in question is ravening mad and mutters on about vast halls connecting all the mirrors in the world.

Ideas  ( Plots ) | October 24, 2007 | View | UpVote 3xp


Creative Commons License
Individual submissions, unless otherwise noted by the author, are licensed under the
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License
and requires a link back to the original.

We would love it if you left a comment when you use an idea!
PayPal
Powered by Lockmor 4.1 with Codeigniter | Copyright © 2013 Strolen's Citadel
A Role Player's Creative Workshop.
Read. Post. Play.
Optimized for anything except IE.
0.0349