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 Posted: Sat Mar 17, 2007 10:06 pm
And thus, I present my little thing I wrote when I was bored!
Untitled
The great caravan rumbled down the long dirt road, though it could hardly be called that. The lane was more of an unworked pathway, it's fair share of bumps interspersed only with deeper ruts. The constant rain from the last week hadn't helped the situation of the travellers any, but there was no chance of turning back. The muddy ground made hard work for the drivers and harder work for the horses, but a simple glance behind would spur on even the most cautious of people. Each time the lightning lit the sky, the monstrous forms of goblins and orcs could be seen in pursuit of the caravan, or more specifically, any wealth that the people might have. Each time the thunder cracked and shook the earth, the beasts let out shouts, screams, curses and all manner of vocal enthusiasm as if trying to lengthen the thunderclap and spur more terror into their prey - the kind of terror that would make people make mistakes. Mistakes that would allow the monsters to reach their running prey.
The feeling of terror was lost on many of the riders. Refugee's all, few who had much to live for at any rate. Though they wouldn't go down without a fight, few were armed and fewer willing to take the rear guard.
"Where do you think you're going!?" Adelaide cried as her husband began to fit himself with his custom-crafted studded leather. The leather itself looked ancient, cracking in numerous places. Many of the lines and creases were from simple wear, but others were obviously from battle. The studs, closely applied and covering much of the leather glowed gently in the dim light. This armor had served him well since the time he first put it on.
"There's a bridge up ahead," Alistair replied, as if that would solve it. He thought it quite obvious with what he was doing - and though he'd normally speak his mind, in this scenario it felt that every word was a second wasted. Time was something they, none of them, had.
"A bridge?" Adelaide replied, but before he could answer her, she added, "A bridge we can destroy and force the chase to cease." Her reasoning seemed sound to a woman who was beginning to dread the immediate loss of her husband. Alistair simply shook his head, a mask of faux-disappointment evident across his features.
"There would be no time," he said as gently as he could muster given the circumstances. "Few here even have any family at all left to fight for, and I doubt they would fight for each other." There was a moment of remote silence before he continued, "The walls of the boarder patrol are only a few hours ahead. If we can just hold them off long--"
"And how do you plan to get there?" She asked solemnly, still not ready to accept the sacrifice of her husband before it had happened. There was a shuffle from behind and they both turned to see the huddled form of their son. Many of the children had been given doses of sleepweed in an effort to have them sleep through the chase in a blissful nothingness and remain unaware of it should they escape it. It was also used in a hope that should they be over run, the tribal monsters may overlook the seemingly dead children. It was unfortunate that Culverton had to wake at this juncture.
"What's going on?" the child asked, knocked aware to the speed they were riding at as the carriage hit a rut and almost snapped it's rear axel.
"There are many orc--"
"Alistair!" Adelaide interrupted, not wanting to subject their child to the truth.
"Adelaide," he replied sternly, glancing her through narrowed eyes. He looked back to his son, kneeling before him, "There are," he hesitated, realizing it may be best not to subject the child to the full truth. Laying a hand on Culverton's shoulder, he reiterated, "My son, you will need to learn that there are many things worse than death. One of which is the guilt that would encompass your life should you refuse to do the right thing -- especially when the lives of those around you, and those most precious to you, hang in the balance." Culverton stared up with a simply stupefied expression. Alistair lets out a faint, amused "Hmph," before straightening and turning to his wife. "Ensure that he never forgets those words, my love." With his message and motto delivered, he strapped his sword to his side and grabbed his Large Adamantine Shield. He offered his wife a quick kiss to the hand, much as how he had first introduced himself to her years ago.
Alistair pulled his horse up gently and watched the caravan slowly rumble into the darkness. He turned his horse, as he stood halfway down the bridge, measuring the width. It wasn't a wide bridge, but he'd still have to be careful. The hordes were closing in, and he held no illusion that he'd return to see his family. No matter the outcome of this battle, he knew that his life would be meaningful if he was the reason the refugee's survived -- but more than that, if his son lead a good life.
Adelaide and Culverton watched Alistair and his horse slow to a halt halfway over the bridge and then fade into the darkness as the carriages left him behind. No others had come to help though his strategy had been spread up and down the caravan in time. Adelaide weeped gently, but strongly, holding Culverton close as she staired out the back of the carriage. For Culverton; it was only beginning to sink in exactly what was going on in the world around him, and a grim smile crossed his face. The fight began, and though his father was out of sight, the echoes of steel, the death screams and the sound of battle were heard even over the thunder. "I think I know what he meant, Ma." He said gently, unaudbly over the roar of the cascading rain.
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"Have a good day!" Adelaide yelled to her son as he ran off, down the street to the local school. They hadn't stayed with the refugee's, nor did Adelaide keep much of Alistair's wealth. She had donated much of it to the refugee cause, though she had kept enough to buy a small plot of land and build a home. It had been a few years since that night, and now she lived in Raven's Down with Culverton. It was a large village, but a village nonetheless. Life was almost as it should be, except for that one missing thing. She let out a gentle sigh, her throat quivering gently before she turned back into the house and went about her chores for the day.
Culverton offered a wave back though he kept running forward. It was an awkward run, but he quickly righted himself and made his way to school. Most of the day passed uneventfully, though he did learn that Raven's Down was founded by a man named Gerald Ravenchild in the "Local History" hour. At the end of the schoolday, as school let out Culverton began to make his way to the woods -- he oftened explored the woods after school, and found the treks to be very calming. The forest was across a short expanse of field, normally uninhabited. This day, however, Culverton shared it with a classmate and three older kids who were bullying him.
"Friends with a girl!" One of the bullies cried, pushing the kid, "What are you? Queer!" The child let out a bitter laugh, ending with a loud snort at the end. At that distance, Culverton couldn't have seen who it was, but the snort marked him; it was Alec. Alec was the leader of the local 'gang'. Atleast, that was what they fancied it. It was more or less a group of the eight oldest people still thought of as 'children' since they couldn't help with any of the local work. Culverton stopped his trek toward the woods and began to march towards the small gathering.
"Where's your dress!?" asked another, kicking the fallen child. He began to cry, worried more of the pain to come than the pain already existant. All three of the kids broke out in laughter at the kid's expense. He was curled into a ball and had wet himself.
Culverton stopped a few paces behind the kids. Though they were still older than him, only Alec was bigger. With his left hand scrunched into a fist, he called out "Stop!" with no hesitation in his voice. His right hand held four long sticks. They were plentiful on this side of the field, harsh winds often snapping them from the older trees.
The children turned to see Culverton. Alec held his hands out to his side innocently, "We were just playing." He explained, "We may have got a tad rough."
"I'll have none of your excuses, Alec." Culverton said quickly, "Apologize to him now and go report your doings to his parents and your own."
"Who do you think you are?" one of the other two bullies asked, stepping forward. He tried to intimidate Culverton, but it failed. Culverton wasn't cowed, and instead he tossed 3 of the sticks to the feet of the bullies.
"Prepare yourself for battle," he said in a flat voice. He knew he was overmatched, but he couldn't allow this to continue. Even if this meant taking a few bruises, or worse, he wouldn't back down and let these boys continue with their hateful ways. Bending down, each child picked up the weapon, grinning. They knew Culverton was overmatched too.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Culverton took a deep breath, steadying his hand. When he opened his eyes, he imagined the children standing before him as evil monsters. The same monsters that had been chasing him on that night he last saw his father. If his father had died for what he believed in, the least Culverton could do was take a little pain. Raising his stick in one hand, an awkward form but one he was sure that would cause pain, he leaped at the bully who had stepped forward. The bully was caught off guard, only then realizing that Culverton wasn't going to run. He hit the ground a moment after the stick hit him in the left side of the head. His cheek split as part of his earlobe was torn off. These bullies had never felt the product of induced pain before, and he remained on the ground stunned at the thought of being the prey. Alec and the other bully weren't caught as unawares.
"You little!" Alec grunted as he took a step forward, and holding his large stick in both hands, brought it around at Culverton's head.
If the blow hit, Culverton surely would have been knocked senseless. In desperation he raised his left arm. His own arm hit him in the head as it crunched. The skin ripped under the uneven edges of the stick and bruised around that. His arm began to flame as the pain of a fractured bone became present. He didn't let it phase him though, as he shoulder-checked Alec away then thrust the blunted edge of the stick into the inside of the other bully's leg, just above the knee. His stick snapped under the force, but it also dropped the bully. With the blow having landed on a nerve, the kid was unable to stand -- not that he'd want to after experiancing the pain of someone fighting back. Alec caught himself from a stumble and narrowed his eyes. They locked on the broken stick and he grinned maniacally.
"Now I'll show you what happens to those who mess with us," he said, stalking forward. He knew Culverton wouldn't run.
Looking to the short peice of splintered wood in his hand, he realized it wouldn't be much help. Glancing back to Alec, he eyed the stick in the large bully's hand.
Before Alec could act, Culverton stepped forward and threw the stick at his face. As the bully raised his arm to block the throw, Culverton stepped in low, landing a solid hit to his stomach. Bending from the blow, stunned, Alec didn't react even as Culverton began an uppercut that caught him on the left side of his face, throwing him back and to the side. He wasn't down and out though. As he stood, he laughed, almost merrily. Culverton couldn't figure out the response until he looked behind himself. There, upright and ready, were the two bullies. All three advanced on Culverton and began to whack away with abandon. Although he fell, Culverton knew it could be worse. The shock from the fractured arm numbed much of the pain. It grew though, and eventually the sweet blissful darkness took him.
Waking hours later, judging by the waning daylight, Culverton tried to sit up. He found that his body ached all over, and a slow glance to both his black and blue arms told him that much of his body also looked the same. It was fortunate that he covered his head when he went down. There was a ruffle from behind and dread filled his chest. If the bullies had simply waited for him to regain conciousness, he was now defenseless. There was no more shock to numb the pain. He already hurt, and he couldn't even imagine hurting any more.
"So you're finally awake," called out a rough voice. It was grizzled, but had the edge of a proper upbringing. Looking over his shoulder slowly, Culverton saw a large man with greying hair. The man wore an outfit of studded leather that he could've sworn was glowing faintly. A horse knickered from nearby, a large shield strapped to the side and a sword under it. Looking back to the armored man, Culverton saw that he held a wooden training sword. Standing slowly, barely, he noticed some blood in various places, matting the grass. "Don't worry, most of it is yours boy," the man said, "Most."
"Are you a knight?" He asked. The demeanor matched that of his father, a knight, and so it matched his idea of knights in general.
"I am." He said confidently, "And it seems you are too."
"I am?" Culverton asked, confused. He knew he had done what he thought was right, but...
"Aye," the knight replied. "You are, at heart, in any case." He offered a warm smile.
"I'm just living to do what I think is right. My father told me never to do, or not do, anything that would lead to guilt." Though the words were awkward, he knew his meaning got across.
"A fine way to live," The knight replied. "I'm guessing your father taught you that. If you want, I could teach you to better protect that belief of yours. So maybe next time you won't need the help of another," he chided, swinging the wooden sword around in his hand to draw attention to it. After a moment, he moved back to his horse and put it away. "What do you say?"
Such an offer was too good not to accept. There was no doubt in his mind that it was what he wanted. "I accept," he said, but the moment the words were spoken he found that it'd be hard to tell this to his mother. "But..."
"I think she'll understand." He said, mounting the horse, "I'll be waiting for you at the West Forest road." With that, the knight trotted off, leaving no room for further inquiry.
Culverton's walk home was a long one. The goodbye was even longer, but his mother smiled at him with a true sincerety that touched him deeply as the words "I'm so proud of you," echoed through his mind. Though it was probably the last time he'd ever see her, he knew that she would always watch over him.
As he came to the West Forest road, he found the knight waiting just as he'd said. "Time for us to be off," the knight said, his studded leather glowing more fiercly in the moonlight. Culverton nodded and trotted up. Taking the reins of the horse, they began to walk through the path.
"What's your name?" Culverton asked, there was no shyness to his voice. The knight liked that.
"For now," the knight said, "You can call me 'Sir'."
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Posted: Fri Mar 30, 2007 10:59 am
IS THIS A WRITING THREAD?
YOU'VE JUST SPELLED YOUR DOOOOOOM.
Wrote this for a contest where the point was to write the most horrific romance fanfic possible in the space of three paragraphs. If you're not disgusted by the end of it, I'll be happy to explain it to you. Enjoy!
Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
***************************
How lucky that they had come back to this very place again. Nobody would know about it. The fighting had died down for now, and everybody was asleep in their tents. The others would never find them out here. They’d never suspect a thing. Fleeing into the shadows of the trees, he found the rock formation at which they had arranged to meet. He dug into the dirt with his hands to find what they had hidden here earlier that month, so that they’d be ready for their romantic meeting.
Ah, there she was now.
He ran his hands through her flowing red hair, carefully caressing her head, and lifting it from the ground ever so gently. Pressing her lips against his own, he moaned softly as she complied to his advances. Slowly, he slipped the shoulder of her dress off to the side, and began kissing along her neck and inhaling her heavenly scent, a lovely perfume she had created herself over the last few weeks, just for him. Enough with the foreplay, he thought. She’s been thinking of me all day, she’s ready for me by now. He met with no resistance as he slid her dress down around her waist and to her ankles, and marveled at the beauty of her body. “Sis.” Ewan thought to himself, “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe those bastards left you alone in battle to die.”
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Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2007 10:54 pm
Lily_Mercury IS THIS A WRITING THREAD? YOU'VE JUST SPELLED YOUR DOOOOOOM. Wrote this for a contest where the point was to write the most horrific romance fanfic possible in the space of three paragraphs. If you're not disgusted by the end of it, I'll be happy to explain it to you. Enjoy! Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones *************************** How lucky that they had come back to this very place again. Nobody would know about it. The fighting had died down for now, and everybody was asleep in their tents. The others would never find them out here. They’d never suspect a thing. Fleeing into the shadows of the trees, he found the rock formation at which they had arranged to meet. He dug into the dirt with his hands to find what they had hidden here earlier that month, so that they’d be ready for their romantic meeting. Ah, there she was now. He ran his hands through her flowing red hair, carefully caressing her head, and lifting it from the ground ever so gently. Pressing her lips against his own, he moaned softly as she complied to his advances. Slowly, he slipped the shoulder of her dress off to the side, and began kissing along her neck and inhaling her heavenly scent, a lovely perfume she had created herself over the last few weeks, just for him. Enough with the foreplay, he thought. She’s been thinking of me all day, she’s ready for me by now. He met with no resistance as he slid her dress down around her waist and to her ankles, and marveled at the beauty of her body. “Sis.” Ewan thought to himself, “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe those bastards left you alone in battle to die.” LMAO... Yeah, you already explained it to me in the other part. For the record: I'm so happy to see that soooo many people have read my work and given me some constructive criticism. ... *sarcasm*. EDIT: And why did my story become BLUE!?
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2007 12:58 am
._. ... Wow. I'm the only one that voted in the poll?
Btw, reading this reminded me of FFCC. XD With the caravan and what not.. And orcs.. Either way, it sounds really great IMO. o_o Then again, I'm not the kind who reads a lot of stories a lot.. ._.; So.. yeah. It does somewhat inspire me to role play though, but I role play mostly my Sci-Fi RP that's dead. D= So I don't know how that even works out..
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Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2007 12:12 am
Locke Trufeld ._. ... Wow. I'm the only one that voted in the poll?
Btw, reading this reminded me of FFCC. XD With the caravan and what not.. And orcs.. Either way, it sounds really great IMO. o_o Then again, I'm not the kind who reads a lot of stories a lot.. ._.; So.. yeah. It does somewhat inspire me to role play though, but I role play mostly my Sci-Fi RP that's dead. D= So I don't know how that even works out.. LMAO... If I RP'd on this board, I would certainly get more gold razz I wish there was a good fairly active RP guild with something that interested me. Then my creative juices wouldn't be wasted! Not that I think this story is wasted. I personally enjoy it. The ending was rushed because I was getting bored... But other than that, I like it. And it's nice to see 100% wanting a Novel razz Thanks Locke ^^ Why did my story become blue?
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Posted: Wed Apr 18, 2007 6:58 pm
If we actually had a good number of Role Players in this guild, we could most definitely start some RP or something. Who knows how it'll go though. o_o'
XD I'm not sure why your story became blue... I wonder if it was my doing... Although I'm not sure what I would've done with your thread though..
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