[note: sorry, not much sex in the first part.]
The light from the twin moons shone brightly on the new-fallen snow, bathing the landscape in a silvery incandescence. The bitter cold had driven most people indoors, except for the miserable guards on the castle walls, and in the back alleys of Eve's City which surrounded the castle, just over five hundred disgruntled rebels led by a wizard of youthful visage astride a juvenile Great Snowy Wyvern. The Wyvern walked with its torso and its long, flexible tail parallel to the ground. The tail served as a rudder in flight, a balance beam on the ground. Its forelimbs were equipped with three fingers and an opposable thumb, each equipped with a wicked claw for scrambling up and down sheer ice cliffs in search of prey. The double-jointed fourth finger was extended to amazing proportions in order to support each of its membranous wings, while still allowing it to utilize its claws when not in flight. Its taloned feet were likewise capable of grasping struggling prey, and enzymes in the creature's blood kept ice crystals from forming inside its body even in the winter gales of the far north, where temperatures could plummet far below freezing. Its wicked, saurian head was equipped with dagger-like teeth adapted for rending flesh and swallowing it in large chunks, whether its prey was one of the smaller sea-serpents, a whale calf, a seal, a human, a polar bear, or any other creature unfortunate enough to find those jaws nearby. This alone would make even the juvenile, standing a mere seven feet tall at the hip, a formidable beast, but the threat was compounded by the creature's cryogenic breath, which could render even sturdy structures as brittle as poorly-made glass.
The wizard patted the beast's flank, then resumed watching the castle through his small, brass telescope. Right on schedule, the portcullis opened, and carriages began to transport the wealthy of Evia out across the stinking hovels of the real world to their own palatial keeps and holds. It would be hard for the rabble he'd roused to fight their way up the motte, especially before the portcullis closed again. The wizard didn't even try. Instead, he waited until he could sense that most of the people inside were asleep.
"Make ready." he commanded one of the nearby farmers. The man nodded and thumped the butt of his scythe against the cobblestones before spreading the word to the others. The wizard's lips moved as he cast the spell to blow thick clouds from the northern mountainst and obscure the moons, banishing the pleasant winter radiance. Then, he moved the Wyvern out onto the broad thoroughfare of Crown Street, where it could spread its wings unencumbered. "Let's go, Glacier. Quietly, now." he whispered to his mount. Glacier bounded into the air with its powerful legs, then let its wings propel it aloft. Under the wizard's guidance, it dove toward the now-closed portcullis. Its torso swelled as it made ready for a katabatic blast. Its mouth opened, revealing its wicked teeth, and a blue-white cloud surged forth, like a sub-freezing version of a pyroclastic flow. The wizard shielded himself with his magic as the beast crashed through the frozen hardwood of the gate. A second burst, and the vat of boiling oil was frozen solid. The Wyvern spiraled upward--a dim, ghostly white smudge against the newly dark sky. Its powerful chest swelled once more as the beast approached the royal residence tower. A third blast billowed from the beast's mouth, freezing a section of the tower wall. The wizard cast fire, and the temperature differential caused the frozen area to burst like a lightning-struck tree. The Wyvern lit on the side of the tower, its claws easily finding purchase on the masonry. Its master disembarked, landing gingerly on a staircase. Excellent! the wizard thought. The breach is between the guard station and the King's chambers. I'll have to give Glacier a fatted calf when this is over. He drew a falchion from beneath his cloak and burst into the chambers, to find the King pulling on his trousers. A bruised and naked chambermaid looked at the wizard from the bed with her one unblackened eye, which was wide with fear. She tried to move, but winced in pain, clutching her side. The King was not gentle.
"You've some nerve, peasant!" snarled the King. He threw a knife at the wizard, who caught it easily in one gloved hand. The wizard chanted a spell, and the knife glowed. Then he threw it back. The knife sank into King Mirkan's right shoulder with a meaty "thunk".
The King screamed in pain and fell to his knees. The spell prevented the man from removing it. Through the pain, he managed to call for his warlock, Queeg.
"Ah, Queeg, I was hoping to have a shot at you." the wizard said.
"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment?" Queeg responded, searching his mind for a suitably horrid demise.
"You didn't take the time to make an appointment when you set that pack of Hellhounds on my home village." the young wizard said.
"Hmph. They probably deserved it. They wouldn't be peasants if the Gods didn't want to punish them for transgressions in a past life." Queeg snapped in retort.
"Oh, you believe in reincarnation? What do you think you'll come back as, Queeg? A June bug? A cockroach? A tapeworm?" Queeg barked a harsh spell that sent a bolt of black lightning arcing across the room to his white-cloaked opponent. The falchion caught the bolt without harm to its weilder. "Care to try that again?" the young wizard quipped.
"Queeg! Ack! Get this knife out of me!" Mirkan grunted. Blood poured down his arm, which hung limp as his left one struggled to support his bulk.
"One moment, Your Majesty." Queeg said, throwing fireballs at the wizard, who caught all of them with his blade. Now, it was starting to glow. The warlock growled, and cast a fearful curse that manifested as a beam of black light. Again, the falchion absorbed the magic. "What the hell?" he asked.
"Yes." the wizard said. "When you get there, tell them Auryn of Creed sent you." With that, he pointed the falchion's blade at the warlock, shouting a one-word spell in another language. The weapon released all of its stored energy right into the warlock's body. His death was a spectacular lightshow as energy crackled around his immobilized body, before he fell to the floor as a pile of ashes. Auryn of Creed walked up to the fallen monarch. His crown had rolled off of his head. His weakened body was wracked by spasms. Auryn picked up the heavy, golden crown and stared down with pity upon its former wearer. "Too long have ordinary people suffered under your rule, Mirkan. Without your warlock to protect you, your time is over. If only you didn't see the pain of others as a symbol of your own power, this never would have happened."
"Spare me your self-righteous prattling and finish me off." Mirkan spat weakly.
"No." Auryn said. "I think I'll just let that knife take its toll." He walked over to the bruised girl. She cringed in terror at his touch. "Shh, shh, easy now." he said. He began to chant soft, liquid syllables that were almost as soothing as the magic itself. His hand moved to each bruise, and as his softly-glowing hand passed over the injuries, they disappeared. He opened the wardrobe and withdrew a fine silk tunic, since the growing stream of Mirkan's blood had reached the place where what was left of her dress lay. She put it on without hesitation. It hung on her body like a circus tent.
Auryn looked at the crown in his hands. It was an ugly thing, a symbol of greed and the desire for power. Auryn knew what true power was, and knew the weight of responsibility that came with it. He sheathed his falchion, and walked with the chambermaid down the stairs.
She screamed when she beheld Glacier, whose head was sticking through the hole in the wall as it hissed threateningly at several Royal Guards. "It's all right." Auryn said softly. "Glacier won't hurt you." He turned to the guards, holding the crown where they could see it. "It's over. Mirkan's sadistic reign is at an end." The guards lowered their swords.
"By what name go ye, sir wizard?" asked a man who, by the decoration of his armor, was obviously Captain of the Guard.
"Auryn of Creed." The Captain balanced the blade of his sword on the palms of his hands, and sank to one knee. The other guardsmen did the same. Auryn cast a spell to melt the ice on the stairs, and approached the Captain.
"Then I, Jervis of Eve's City, do hereby pledge fealty and obedience to you, King Auryn of Evia." Auryn took the sword, touching the Captain on each shoulder with the blade, then gave it back and bade him rise. He resigned himself to wearing the gaudy crown until he could have a new one made. It fell down over his ears the moment he put it on.
"How could he stand wearing this thing?" he muttered as he pulled the heavy headdress off. "How goes the battle outside?"
"It goes well for the rebels, not so well for the castle guard."
"Then it's time I called an end to this." Auryn said. The guards escorted him to the courtyard, where he held up the crown like an idol. "IT IS OVER! MIRKAN HAS FALLEN! I REPEAT, THE TYRANNY OF MIRKAN IS OVER!"
"HAIL, KING AURYN!" shouted one of the rebels.
"HAIL, KING AURYN! LONG LIVE THE KING!!" shouted the rest. The castle guard knelt where they stood, holding their swords in the palms of their hands.
Thus began the reign of King Auryn I.