As of right now I'm going to call this The Knights of Glore, i don't think the name will stick but I'm ok with that. Its going to be a fantasy novel that takes place kinda in the medieval times era, or something like that. I'm sure more ideas will come to me as i write. Oh and I'm also up for any suggestions that anyone might have, even something as small as maybe changing how a sentence is worded or wrong grammar, hell anything that helps works for me :). So enough talking this is what i have so far :)...:
Darkness covered the sky for as far as the eye could see. Not a single star in the sky could pierce through the murky haze. All over the land people stood outside their homes and watched as the sun disappeared behind clouds thicker than oil. Everyone knew that war was upon them but none of them knew how bad the world had grown over the years.
Sitting to the north of the once great land was a massive castle made of pure black granite. The spires seemed to scratch the sky with their height, and the halls could take days to walk. Nothing seemed normal within the walls of the fortress. Walls moved, halls disappeared, people went missing, and doors opened to nothing. But within the castle one thing stayed constant, it wasn’t the steady stream of people, or the fear that seemed to emanate from the very structure itself, but instead was one solitary man who was forever bound to the stone the walls were made of.
This one man was as normal as could be or at least he would be if it wasn't for the power he possessed. No one knew how he came upon the power he held over the land, they just knew it was dark. For as long as anyone could remember he had always been there. Watching, waiting, and causing destruction where he saw fit. Anyone who stood in his way perished at his hand. His word was law, and to break those laws was to die.
Today was just like any other day, or at least it seemed that way. Once again another person was brought to his feet by the Knights of Glore. These knights were not like any other, they were made whole by the power he wielded. They were nothing but armor, and a fiery glow behind a slit in their black helmets. Air was of no use to them neither was food or water, they did not sleep, and they followed orders better than any human could. Some called them Spirit daemons, while others called them hells guards, but no matter what they were called every person in the land was scared of them. To come across a Knight of Glore was to visit death himself.
Crying could be heard coming from the corridor leading to the Great Hall where he himself sat upon his throne. Metal clanked and screams echoed along with the cries of a child. The main doors swung open with ease and grace that seemed impossible for doors as tall as a house. Within seconds the sounds grew louder and grated on everyone’s ears within the hall. A young woman and her small child no older than 4 were escorted into the room much to the annoyance of this powerful man. He knew any moment now the woman would start begging but it wouldn't help her cause if anything he would make her death more painful as punishment for his annoyance. Instead, much to his surprise it was not the woman who screamed and cried but the child at her side.
This young woman was like nothing he had ever seen before; she was the epitome of beautiful. Long golden hair flowed down her back to end just below her hips, she wore a well fitted emerald gown with golden trim spun by the hand of an elf, no slippers adorned her feet, or jewels her fingers. These facts alone surprised the man into silence. A woman of her stature was sure to have many slippers, and of course a pile of jewels to wear to the finest ball. As he tried to calm himself and remember why she was here, he was instead taken again by her eyes.