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Offline t12161991

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A story. Title TBD
« on: May 23, 2009, 03:43:51 AM »
First, I assume it's alright to post non-warhammer stories in here?

Second, I've been working on a long, novel size story for a while, and hit a rut. Hence, I started this one to "respark." My goal is ~1000 words per week, both for time reasons, and to keep it a smallish size. As of right now, I'm 2 weeks in (wrote two installments the first week).

Enjoy!

The tide was changing. The water washed in and out, moving slowly, purposefully, but without thought. In and out. In and out. In, over the sand and dunes, covering small clumps of grassy hummock. Out, washing away the blood and gore of the previous day.

The armies faced one another on the coast, waiting for the right moment to strike. One, with its gilded armor and crafted spears, the other with its gut strung bows and purebred horses. Both were masters of killing. They had stalked each other for days, the horses staying just out of range of the short composite bows of the spearmen.

Hermaklides walked along the dunes, just past the sentries with their bright torches. Tomorrow, he knew, would be the day of reckoning. Tomorrow, they would fight. He paused, looking past the darkness, sending his sight to the other camp. His was disciplined, posting sentries and erecting multitudinous lines of tents and fire pits, with the armory on the left, the makeshift stables on the right. The other was loud, raucous, unorganized chaos. They were drunk on the spoils of victory they had won, and rightly so. They had appeared out of nowhere, stabbing deep into his lands. They had ravaged through Hisoi, brought down the walls of Kinei, and annihilated the port of Nokles. The barbarians had struck before anyone knew what had happened, and this army was the last desperate attempt to keep them from Knosseklido. To keep them from the Temples of the Hhenoi. To keep them out of the Gardens of Lao. This small force of 10 kav was the only thing standing between them and the capital.

He turned suddenly on his heel, striding back to the camp. It was time for evening prayers, time to prepare for the following day.

“Halt!”

His heart jumped, then calmed. It was the sentry, doing his job.

“Annikos, it is I, Hermaklides.”

“Halt I say! Halt!”

“Annikos? What are you-”

The spear lanced through his left side, igniting it in a blaze of pain and blood. He stared at it, the wooden shaft sticking from his side, the point jutting out at an odd angle. He had not thought it would hurt so little. Moving like a dream, his hand drifted down around the shaft, fingers scrabbling at his sword hilt. The blade rose, meeting the wooden spear and slicing through it, leaving splinters in its wake.
He moved faster now, spinning on his heel, cloak flaring out behind him. His arm outstretched, blade glinting at the end. It hummed through the air, looped around the shield, buried itself casually in the neck of the sentry. He wrenched it free, heard the commotion. Something had happened. This was not Annikos. Then he noticed the small things. The armor was of an old style, long given up. The spear had a bronze, not iron point. The sword was thinner, but longer, as in the style of the Legio. But the Legio was 250 years gone.

He gasped. The spear was still in his side, and kneeling had reignited the pain. He felt it, felt the point twisting within him. He almost jerked it out, but felt the blood spurt. It was all that was keeping his lifeblood from spilling out. He looked up. Then around. He stood again, and peered into the darkness.

He was not on the shore. He was nowhere near a forest. He was not anywhere he knew. He was alone, somewhere, without help, without hope. He was sorely wounded in a strange world, a world that seemed inclined toward hostility.

He almost began to run, but an involuntary cry of pain shook him. That was not an option. Nor was fighting. He limped away, fast as he could, slow as that was. There was a small stream to his left, and that would hide his tracks and scent, if these men had tracking dogs. He looked behind him; saw the torches beginning to climb the steep slope of the hill, heading for the dead sentry. He moved faster.
He splashed into the stream, gasping as the ice-cold water submerged his legs. He waded forward, quietly. This would be a long walk, a longer day.

*************************************************************************************

His body was cold. His hands shook. His teeth chattered. He was lost. The stream had run out a few miles back, and since then he had dragged branches behind him to cover his tracks. Luckily, the bleeding had stopped, and he was able to move faster now. He stumbled, nearly falling. He had found a cliff, and down there, a village. Smoke wreathed the valley, drifting upon the wind. Small dots moved as the people went about their daily business. He sighed as he realized the climb he was about to undertake. It was a long way down.

There was a small goat track, and he began to climb down it, stumbling every few steps as his wound throbbed. Despite the sandals, rocks hurt his feet, sharp as they were. He was halfway down now. Two thirds. His sight flashed in and out, blackness calling to him.

He was almost there, when he did not lift his foot quite far enough. A rock caught his sandal, ripping it. His foot came down upon a sharp rock, the tip lacerating his foot. He jerked back, tried for balance, too late. He tottered forward, grabbed at the side, but fell all the same. He tucked his head in as he bounced down, rocks tearing at his skin. The spear caught on something for a moment, he screamed in unsuppressed pain. His hands went away from his head, grabbed the point away from whatever it was caught on. It came free, just as his head found another rock. Then there was just blessed, painless, darkness.

*************************************************************************************

He woke, grasping for his sword. Where was he? Who had moved him? Who had found him? Questions flashed through his head. He opened his eyes, looking for any sign of where he was, who had him. He was not in prison that was for sure. His foot was bandaged, as was his side, his belongings, few as they were, on the floor beside him. He sat up and looked around. He was in a wooden building, with a window on the opposite wall. A door led to what seemed to be a corridor, but the corridor was a dark, matte, stone. Candles caught his eye, flickering on a table in the corner. Torches lined the hall, one illuminating the darkness every few feet.

He rose, grimacing as his bandages stretched. He put on his clothing, and picked up his sword. He stalked to the hall, snatching a torch from the wall as he went. It was a long hallway, long enough that it was hard to see the door on the other end. Was there a door? He could not tell. He advanced, aware of everything around him. He looked for an exit, something to get him out of this place.

How? When? Where?! He could not answer these questions, much as he pondered them. He reached the end, and indeed, there was no door, at least, none that his senses could recognize.

“Ready for an explanation?”

The voice echoed behind him, the waves of its passage gripping the torches, he saw the shadows stop flickering for a fraction of a second. In a flash, he faced the arrival, sword and torch in hand.

“Wher- What are you!” he asked.

The stranger stood there, a tall being, or so he thought. Now he? She? It? Seemed shorter than average. A cloak swathed it, hiding its shape beyond that. An intricate dagger hung from a belt, glittering with jewels of all shapes and sizes. Its face was amorphous, common, but rare. It was unidentifiable, but unique. It was a being of contradictions in every way possible.

“What am I? I myself am not sure. Nor are you, I imagine.” It said with a wistful smile. Its voice was of the medium range, neither high nor low, yet it carried a lilt, a barely identifiable accent, and a hint of deep sorrow.

“As for the question I believe you were about to ask, ‘where am I?’ You will know this, and many other things, in due time. For now, all you need to know is that you are in a fortress, in a time somewhat before that of your origin. You want to know ‘Why?’ yes? You are here to perform a task, a task that will shape this world, and your own.”

As he listened, Hermaklides began to feel a hint of weariness, and caught himself against the wall. Who, what, ever this was, it seemed to be forthcoming.

“Why are you telling me this? How did I get here?”

“Why am I telling you? Either I tell you now, when I have time to explain, or I tell you later, when you may be in danger, and I would be forced to rush an explanation. As to how you came to be in this place, that, mano laici, is my knowledge not yours.”

It seemed that there were limits. What had it said? Mano laici? That was no tongue he knew, nor did it sound like those he had heard of.

“What language is that? ‘Mano laici?’ It is like nothing I have heard of before.”

It laughed. The sound was velvety, shimmering in the air. Whatever It was, It was not a man.

“Ah, that is my native language. It is possible for you to learn it. That would take many years of study and practice however, I am afraid that we do not have the time. It is called ‘Uloi.’ ‘Mano laici’ has the rough meaning of ‘friend of mine’ in your language, I think. The… cross over? Is it transformation? Ah, I remember, it is translation, yes, the translations are never correct. Your language is much more direct than mine.”

“Where did you enter? How do I get out?”

“Ah, eager to start are we? Well I am afraid you cannot quite yet, you will have to meet the Sthao. I do not believe you have a similar word. A combination between ‘ruler’ and ‘subject’ I think.”

“I do not want to be here. You have taken me from my kingdom, my family, my life! They are in danger, and I, I was the only thing that could protect anything. The Hrocen are on their doorstep, and my men and I were the mangy guard dog that might scare them off. I must return!”

Fist met palm for emphasis, as he stood upright once more, his frustration flowing freely. The Being was unimpressed.

“That is not possible. Do not make this harder than it must be. You will return in due time. Your family and country may even be safe if you complete this task efficiently.”

“I said, ‘Let me return to them!’” His impassioned voice made as much headway as the wind against a stone cliff.

“You will not return now, nor tomorrow, nor next week, nor any time until your task is complete.” No emotion was discernable from the statement, but the aura exuded power. It was not boastful, simply a statement of fact. Hermaklides was not impressed.

“I care not how you threaten me. I do not care what you do to me. I will return to my home, my family, one way or another!”

“Did you not hear me? If you complete this task faithfully and faultlessly, your family will be unharmed. This is the only way you can save them, the only way you can be assured of their survival.”

He thought. He questioned. In the end, it came down to one thing.

“Fine. I will go with you. Just know that no God will save you if you are telling falsehoods.”

The being raised an arm, the first time he saw anything but its face. It was elegant and slender. Energy sparkled at the tip. It flashed.

They were gone.

*************************************************************************************

The world swirled. Colors drifted, detached from all around him. Hermaklides would have screamed if he had had the presence of mind. The world… was not there. There was no air. Nothing recognizable. Simply a swirling mass of darkness, interspersed with color and light and sound and everything the world was, set adrift from their normal bearings in reality.

Do not be afraid. This will pass in a few moments, and we will be back in a world you will recognize.

The Being did not speak, nor move its lips, but Hermaklides heard it all the same. He looked around and saw it behind him, arm still out stretched, though nothing sparkled at the tip now. Unlike before, it seemed strained, as if it were concentrating very hard indeed.

He decided waiting for something to happen was the best course. They did not seem to be moving, but Hermaklides thought that disturbing whatever the being was doing might be unwise. He waited. And waited.

Hours seemed to pass. The Being’s definition of a moment seemed to be different than that of a human.

The colors stopped. Before he had not thought he was moving, but now… he definitely was. The Being was flustered.

“What has happened?”

The words rang out in the stillness, disrupting the tension.

I am not sure… this should not be happening!

This world… shook. Whatever was happening, it was attempting to stop them. But was it for good or ill? Hermaklides was not certain that it even had a defined purpose. The world snapped.

A bright light shone through a gap in the darkness. The Being screamed out. Hermaklides drew his sword, then-

*************************************************************************************

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking. He was somewhere in a forest, the sunlight shining down in airy beams. This time there was no building, just the open expanse of nature.

He rose, checking himself. He had all his possessions, but there was something missing… the bandages! They were gone. He checked himself for injury. He had none. Who, what, ever had taken him, had healed him, completely, even of the scar from shaving he had taken at sixteen. What…

“I trust you feel better now?”

A voice. This time he turned slowly, and with an exasperated voice, he answered.

“Yes. I do. What am I doing here? Who are you? Why have you brought me here? Who was that that you took me from?”

This person was fully recognizable as human. A woman, no less. Her hair was bound in a loose knot behind her head, and she was clothed in some sort of shiny material, a material that cascaded down her fit frame. A bow and quiver full of arrows were on her back, and at her side, a gilded sword in a sheath.

“You are here, as your previous… hosts, no doubt have told you, to perform a task. I am Neildar Ilkein, Guardian of Lamionar Hreni, scion of the House of Ilkein. I have brought you here so that you might return to your time.”

The answers spilled out freely. She paused.

“As for the Being I took you from… it is best you do not know fully. You must know, however, that their race is responsible for my current situation. They came from the South, two centuries ago, came with an eldritch fury. They smashed aside all our defenses, laid waste to our lands, our cities, our countries. Humanity is in hiding. And you are our last hope to drive them back. And not just drive them from our lands, but defeat them.”

Her impassioned voice shook with rage, terror, and suppressed sadness. Tears glinted like diamonds at her eyes.

“They are the Nordkin. An ironic name, for cold is anathema to them. We know not where they come from originally, but they are possessed of powers far beyond those of any human, as I am sure you have realized. They can manipulate time and nature with just a thought. It is by luck, courage, and effort beyond measure that we have been able to resist them this long. We need your help.”

“What can I offer you that you do not have yourselves? I am a warrior and a leader yes, but no more. I do not possess hidden knowledge, and know nothing more than what you have told me about this foe you face. What can I do that you cannot?”

Hermaklides was puzzled, but no longer angered.

“You possess the key to our survival as a people. In your time, you are about the face the Hrocen yes? They are the beginning of this. You may not recognize this place, but you shall. I am afraid we must move. They are searching even now.”

Action suited words as she turned, and with a gesture to follow, ran into the trees. He followed, as much as he could with armor. She jumped and leaped from the ground, seeming to float along with no effort. He pounded behind. Animals called to each other in the distance. Nature seemed to be at peace.

Then she stopped. He panted up to her, and she gestured for silence.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Them. They are ahead.”

She peered around a tree. He followed her gaze, and saw… something. A vehicle of some sort. He could not imagine, who, or what had built it. A carriage of dark steel, emblazoned with an emblem that pulsed with a nefarious feeling on the side.

“What is that?”

“That, my friend, is their means of controlling our people. One word of discontent, one unbidden thought, and we are taken there. None have returned.”

“What happens?”

“We do not know. Shall we find out?”

Her question floated in the air. He thought.

“Why not? I will do what I can to help.”

“Then follow me.”

*************************************************************************************

« Last Edit: May 23, 2009, 03:47:23 AM by t12161991 »
Grutch:  Careful, someone I know on a forum I visit works for Sony.  He says they aren't to be trusted.

Hail! to the victors valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
The leaders and best!

10-2

Offline t12161991

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Re: A story. Title TBD
« Reply #1 on: May 29, 2009, 02:43:25 PM »
She moved quickly, flitting from tree to tree, avoiding staying in sight of the carriage… thing, for more than a few seconds. He followed as best he could, although he made more noise because of his armor and sword. After several minutes of careful movement, they made their way to within several nar of the carriage. She stopped, and held up her hand for him to do the same.

“How do we do this?” she asked in a whisper.

“How should I know? I have no experience fighting these Nordkin or their servants.” He answered.

“You are the commander. You may not realize it now, but you have more experience than you can imagine with these foes. Concentrate.”

Her voice spoke to him as if in a distant dream. Something within him rose to the call. He concentrated.

“Right. This is what we do.”

He spent several minutes with a stick and a few stones, drawing a diagram in the soil of the forest.

“This here is the carriage, these are us. Now you’ll go over here, while I go…”

He explained his plan as clearly as he could.

“But… if I cannot see those who are guarding the hin’a, how can I “neutralize” them?” she asked.

“What? You cannot… see… them…” his voice trailed off.

He could not see them either. Yet, he just knew where they would be. He could not explain why he knew that there would be eleven of them, or why four would be in the carriage, and the other seven at nine-foot intervals around it, or even why he knew that they would not have ranged weapons to match his companion’s bow.

“They will appear when I go toward the carriage.” He answered her question with an uncertain voice. “I do not know how I know this, but you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Of course I trust you! You are the Savior, the one who will deliver us from the Nordkin.” Her voice held nothing of uncertainty. Her faith, unshakable.

“Once I move, count ninety. Then move, and wait until they appear.”

 He moved, but with purpose. Somehow, he knew where put his feet, how to angle his body to make the least possible amount of noise. They would not detect him. They could not detect him.

He was in position, according to his count, with twenty-two seconds to spare. He continued counting, and waiting.

He charged.

He hurtled around the tree, jumped a fallen sapling, and rushed toward the carriage. For a moment, nothing happened. Then with a rush of sound, figures emerged from under cover. They were tall, cloaked, armed with swords, and two had shields. There were seven of them. They rushed toward him, but his timing and position were perfect. The nearest two were the same distance away, and would reach him at about the same time.

Arrows whistled out of the bushes to his left, striking two of them. One fell, his neck pierced, the other stopped as his arm was punctured. He looked at it curiously, then pulled it out, and continued toward Hermaklides.

They were close now, he drew his sword. It flashed out of his scabbard, and he angled his body, just so. The sword strike missed him, the arm, severed. His sword swirled up, showering blood as he parried another strike. He dipped and dodged, parried and dived. One found a length of steel in its chest, another felt a slice along its ribs.

He tumbled back, set off balance by his opponent’s shield. Now three remained. One faced Neildar, hiding behind his… its shield from her arrows. Two faced him, one with a shield. He laughed.

“You think you can take me? You saw what I did. You have no chance in this life or the next.” He mocked them.

The one without a shield cocked its head. It motioned the other forward. It advanced cautiously, sword point low, shield out before it.

He danced toward it, first left, then right, swinging wildly, but with purpose. His sword glanced off the shield, sparking. The other swung up. His sword dipped and turned it aside as he twisted back and turned. His cloak flared behind him, the metal blade dissecting the air as light bounced playfully off it. His feet left the ground as his sword dived. His opponent crouched and raised his shield, to no avail. His sword sank through the wood like water, seeking and finding flesh.

He wrenched it back, twisted his cloak about his arm, and raised the arm. The other’s sword slicing the cloak, but it stopped. This one was more dangerous. Neildar had given up the bow it seemed, and was dueling with the other one.

He raised his sword in a salute to his opponent. It paused, then imitated him. They danced.

Back and forth their combat raged, swords bouncing off one another, sparks flying. Flesh eluded metal, twisting at the last second. He spun back.

“You are the first challenge here. I am honored to face you.” It spoke.

Its voice was melodic, rising and dipping with a measured clip. It was not tired sounding, although it panted.

“Whilst I am glad you view me with such admiration, I am afraid that you must die for me to accomplish my goals. Farewell.”

His answer was just as respectful, if threatening. Their dance began again.

He bounced forward, stabbing with his blade, testing its defenses. Every strike blocked, every cut, turned, every stab, countered. Then it attacked. He retreated, sword moving with unnatural swiftness as the air in front of him turned into a furious struggle. Back and back he went, sword moving ever more desperately.

His sword floated up as it glanced a stab aside, flipped as it parried a thrust, then…

His sword flew through the air then bounced once as it hit the ground. He was unarmed, and his opponent advanced toward him.

“Get it over with! Kill me already!” Hermaklides spat defiance in the face of death.

“I think not.”

Neidar spoke as she loosed her arrow. Hermaklides opponent turned around as it sped toward him. He blinked and stared. His sword rose.

The arrow redirected upward, and then plummeted to the ground. Hermaklides’ opponent lowered his sword.

“Neildar? What are you doing here?” it lowered its hood. Its face was human-like, but… different.

“Mrendail?”

Her shock was audible.
Grutch:  Careful, someone I know on a forum I visit works for Sony.  He says they aren't to be trusted.

Hail! to the victors valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
The leaders and best!

10-2

Offline t12161991

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Re: A story. Title TBD
« Reply #2 on: June 02, 2009, 08:33:54 PM »
No comments at all?  :icon_eek:

I promise I don't bite if criticized.







Generally.

 :happy:
Grutch:  Careful, someone I know on a forum I visit works for Sony.  He says they aren't to be trusted.

Hail! to the victors valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
The leaders and best!

10-2

Offline Captain Tineal

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Re: A story. Title TBD
« Reply #3 on: June 03, 2009, 01:33:16 PM »
I like what you've got so far.  I've been witholding comment so far because I'm kind of waiting for more information.

My one critisizm is that I'm left feeling like I don't know the main character at all.  Your opening is great, but then you have one paragraph before things jump into confusion - and I think you've written that well, as you show the character's confusion, without actually confusing the reader.

I'm a little hesitant with this critisism, as I get the sense you are going to fill us in on the details of the character a little bit at a time, and I'd like to see how it pans out.
I don't know what a pisolires is but it sounds like a musical instrument you play with urine...

Offline t12161991

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Re: A story. Title TBD
« Reply #4 on: June 03, 2009, 05:03:44 PM »
My plan is about 1000 words/2 pages a week.

The first post is the first 3 weeks.

And yes, at that pace details will be a bit slow, but they will come. Expect another update tomorrow or Friday.
Grutch:  Careful, someone I know on a forum I visit works for Sony.  He says they aren't to be trusted.

Hail! to the victors valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
The leaders and best!

10-2

Offline t12161991

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Re: A story. Title TBD
« Reply #5 on: June 04, 2009, 06:29:00 PM »
The aforementioned update. I got very bored in history.

“Neildar, what in the name of Cuiros do you think you are doing? This is one of the carriages of the Nordkin!”

“What am I doing? What am I doing!” she responded with vehemence. “I am working for our people, to free us from Them. And you? What are you doing? Aiding oppression?”

The scorn shook Mrendail. Hermaklides picked up his sword, but did not sheath it. He examined the stranger. He was tall, as the others had been. His sword, now that he had time to look at it more closely, was of a better craft than those of the others had been. His clothes, embroidered with some sort of pattern, composed of straight lines and corners.

Mrendail spoke again. “I am preparing to help our people, just as you are. I was trying to infiltrate their forces

Now Hermaklides remembered about the others.

“What of the other guards? Are they a threat?”

Mrendail turned to him now, and examined him as well.

“And who is this? I know of no people that dress alike, and his weapon is made of a material I do not recognize. Where has he come from?”

She paused and looked at him.

“He… he is from another place. Another time.”

“What! Are you mad? This could destroy us! Why did you bring him here?”

“I did not bring him here. The Nordkin did. I took him as they telled him to a different fortress. He may be able to help us.”

Mrendail shook his head, and paced over to Hermaklides, shaking his head.

“That is almost as dangerous. Do you not understand the dangers posed by Maji? Or do you simply wish to die?” he sounded both concerned and frightened. As he turned back to Hermaklides he said, “And you. Are you willing to help us? Pah, I do not even know your name! Why did the Nordkin bring you here?”

“I am Hermaklides Klilokos, Commander of the Knosseklido Defense force, son of Psido. I have no idea of why they have brought me here, or even where… rather when, here is. They whisked me away from my men, my family, my city when we were about to face the forces of the Hrocen, a barbaric army that has come sweeping out of the plains and attacked my countries allies, and is now at our gates. Without me, my forces will stand no chance in the coming battle. I must return before they are overrun and killed. They need me!”

Mrendail impassively shifted. He thought, and then responded carefully.

“The… Hrocen you say? Can you describe their weapons, armor?”

“I can. They are light cavalry, and make excellent use of short bows and spears. They do not wear armor at all, simply wearing furs as the land they come from is warmer than my own. In combat, they use spears and swords, but no shields. Their tactics consist of harrying a foe at range before closing in for the kill. However, what makes them so dangerous is their method of taking cities. Neither walls nor gates bother them. Somehow, they have discovered some way of just… appearing in the heart of a city. No building we construct stops them. All we can do is fight outside of the city, and hope we can drive them off, despite being outnumbered nearly six to one.”

Now Mrendail was more shocked. He walked away forcefully, muttering to himself, moving his limbs animatedly, shaking his head. He turned back to Hermaklides quickly.

“I know when you are from. You are from a time few among us know anything about, and those that do know something, including me, know little. 163 years ago, a barbarian army of vast ferocity and strength attacked lands to our East. We did not have relations with them at the time, and now the Nordkin make diplomacy of any sort impossible. They were wiped out completely. At first, we feared they would advance to attack us, but they did not for a while. Then, four decades later, they came. The Nordkin came also, and offered to help. We accepted. Now you see what has happened. We are enslaved as a people, unable to break free. If you help us, we may be able to help you.”

Hermaklides was the shocked one now.

“But… your weapons. What are they made of?”

“Bozrum. Why do you ask?”

“I believe it is the same metal alloy we call bronze. 250 years before my time, a civilization we call the Legio was the dominant power in our region. For reasons unknown to us, they disappeared in an instant, leaving behind only the vestiges of their civilization. We have since surpassed their technology. To the west of my people, an ocean stretches for tens of thousands of nar. How is this possible? I recognize your vestments from our past, and you recognize me from yours…”

All three of them were puzzled, none knew the answer. No one spoke for several minutes as all were absorbed in their own thoughts. Then someone shouted.

“Xoren, awake! Attackers! They have killed the sentries! Come, come!”

Mrendail spun around as Neildar nocked an arrow and Hermaklides drew his sword.

Mrendail faced them again.

“I must maintain my cover. Quickly, slash my arm, and then push me over. They will think me left for dead. Then, you must go. They cannot discover you. Go! Now!”

Hermaklides obliged, drawing a spray of blood up into the air, and then kicking him back. He bounced roughly, once, his head hitting another’s shield.

Neildar made toward the carriage, but Hermaklides shook his head.

“Your… friend is right. We must leave now.”

Neildar spoke, scorn biting the air. “Are you a coward? We can take these guards, and rescue my people. We took those six, this is only four more!”

Hermaklides grabbed her as she began to move.

“No. We will be able to rescue them later. For now, they must be unaware of our presence. What happens if one escapes, and informs the Nordkin of my own escape? We must leave, now!”

She paused, thinking, then angrily shook her head and darted off into the trees. Hermaklides ran after her, turning back at the tree line. An arrow glanced off his drawn sword. He retreated further, following his rescuer. His course was settled now. He would fight. He would be victorious. He would return.
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Grutch:  Careful, someone I know on a forum I visit works for Sony.  He says they aren't to be trusted.

Hail! to the victors valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
The leaders and best!

10-2

Offline t12161991

  • Posts: 3139
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Re: A story. Title TBD
« Reply #6 on: June 09, 2009, 05:59:33 PM »
Finished an exam early. Wasn't allowed to leave until the time was up. Realized I had my computer. This is the result.

They stopped in a clearing some time later, both panting with exhaustion.

“I… I… I think we’ve shaken them,” she said. “What should we do now?”

“That’s obvious enough. We must go to… where were you taking me before we found that carriage-thing?”

He now realized that she had not said where they were going at the time.

“Also, what can you tell me about your… companion back there? Who is he? What is he?”

“He… he is not a Nordkin, despite his looks. They have conducted experiments, trying to turn us into them. They failed. He is one such failure.”

“That is despicable. I suppose against the subject’s wills?”

“But of course.”

“Where were you taking me before?”

“To our hall, our base.”

“Then let us go there now.”

They set off through the woods, but more slowly. They did not dawdle, nor hurry. There was no need for either. As they walked, they talked. He told her of his country, while she said little of consequence.

“… and there are these large statues, we do not know how they are made, in front of the… we have farmers and crops yes, but very few. Most of our able bodied workers are potters or…”

They walked for many hours, over hills and dales, through forest and patches of meadow. They walked for a long time indeed, long enough that they were forced to stop for the night.

“Shall we seek out an inn…? Is there even a road or an inn nearby?” he asked.

“Nay, that will not be necessary, nor is it desirable. The Nordkin see all that goes on in the more civilized portions of our kingdom. We shall stop here for the night.”

They set about making camp, he setting a fire while she went a short way into the woods. He heard several twangs, and a few minutes later she returned with a pair of rabbits. They ate, then slept.

They walked on the next day, and the next, and the day after that.

“How far away is this base of yours?” he finally asked days later. “Did you truly expect to reach it the day you found me? If so, why is it taking so long now?”

“I am avoiding the Nordkin. We are travelling in a very irregular path, they seem to be patrolling more often, and in greater numbers.”

“How do you know where they are?”

“With this.”

She held up a small, orange glass. At least, it seemed like glass. It did not glint or shine in the sunlight, it seemed as if the light was being absorbed by it, almost.

“How… how is that possible?”

“Ah, I forget, you are not of this realm. There are certain of us who are able to tap into the forces that make and bind this world, create it and rule it. Powerful as the Nordkin are, they are no match for those who rule those we call gods themselves. Let me demonstrate.”

She held out her hand. Nothing happened. She frowned, and peered at her hand. A bright flash of light whispered past her cheek, and she fell back in shock. The light sped upward, and hit a tree.

Then there was no tree. No living tree at least. There was water that held the shape for a second, then fell to the ground and swished around their feet. Some other material fell as well, crashing down with a whomph!

He stumbled back, shocked.

“What… what would have happened if that hit you…?” he asked.

“I do not know. I think it would be best if we did not attempt it.”

“Is it possible for me to learn… this. What do you call it?”

“It is called Maji. It is also how I managed to take you from the Nordkin mid-tell.”

She paused then, seeming to think.

“As for learning how… I do not know. I only found that I could do this sort of thing by accident. And I am not always sure of what will happen when I try. It is very difficult to control.”

“I would prefer not to make a mistake then.” He said with a wry smile. Who knows what would the consequences would be if I turned something into iron!”

“Oh, that is not all that is possible.”

She held her other hand out, fingers twisted into a bizarre shape. The air at her fingers swirled, and began growing. She untwisted her fingers, and flicked them at the ground. The ground… hollowed itself out. A hole, large enough for a person, was just… there.

“That is handy! Could you do that in say, a rock wall? Or a person?”

“I… I… have not wanted to try in a person. I have done it in all different materials. This is the largest I have ever done though. It is almost as it being around you has augmented my power somehow. I only meant to turn the branch of that tree into water, but the whole thing was affected… we must go on. We have dallied long enough.”

They moved on.

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Note- all magic is possible by the laws of Physics. Yes, I'm right. I won't ruin how if you don't know though.
Grutch:  Careful, someone I know on a forum I visit works for Sony.  He says they aren't to be trusted.

Hail! to the victors valiant
Hail! to the conqu'ring heroes
Hail! Hail! to Michigan
The leaders and best!

10-2