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|11-28-2005, 02:09 PM||#1|
Join Date: Nov 2005
The Legend of War Blood
For thousands of years the Ginorim Empire has ruled the land of Maersin. For thousands of years, rebels have waged a silent war against the Ginorim forces, but every time a threat would present itself, the empire would crush it without a second thought. Until now.
In the year 789 of the fourth age of the Ginorim, an Aegon was born, and now, 20 years later, its power has awoken.
The Hermit of Riversford
Analia Tarren sat in the grass, the sun shining down on her as she rested peacefully, listening to the babbling stream that had branched off the Maerim River. All was quiet save the birds whom sang their beautiful lullabies, which had aided this troubled woman’s sleep. Only a year had past since her adopted son, Evicus, had disappeared into the Doniqe wilderness in the village hunt. Nothing had been seen or heard of him since that day. When the trackers of Imornid village returned with tears in their eyes, the fate of Evicus was immediately present.
Analia had shut herself off from the village, only coming to the market for supplies. Many of her close friends tried to comfort her, but she was lost to them. Her home, a cedar log cabin two miles south of the market, was the closest one to the Maerim. Ever since Evicus had been lost, she had spent many a day looking downriver in hopes of seeing the young lad running towards her along the banks.
This particular day, Analia had run out of food, but this day she was struck with lethargy. She sat on the grass, her thoughts troubled with some of the news the Riversford village had brought her. The empire’s exploration galleons had returned from the sea, bringing with them news of a massive continent to the far west. The men aboard the ships had returned after three years, when the empire had given up hope of their return. But they did come back, and with them they brought a prophecy delivered to the Admiral of the fleet during a dream. A prophecy that predicted the end of the world.
Analia, while scared of the thought, was strangely calm. In her eyes, death would bring her back to her son. And she would accept the sacrifice of her life just to be able to touch his face, whisper words of comfort in his ears. Analia closed her eyes and drifted off, losing herself in the sounds of the swaying breeze. She saw Evicus in her dreams, every time she slept; she looked upon him and wished she could have died with him. And then, when sleep came upon her, she joined him in her mind.
“Well, well, well, look what we have here boys.” A gruff voice shocked Analia awake. She looked around wildly and saw three large men. The one who had spoken was very stout, his width roughly half his height. The stout man grasped her ankle and lifted her up effortlessly. Analia let out a shrill scream of terror. Two hands clasped her mouth shut, and Analia became aware that a fourth man was there.
“Such a pretty lass, she’ll serve the captain well tonight,” a small, weasel faced man sneered.
“Aye, she’ll do for tonight, and who knows, the captain may take a liking to her,” the stout one added, swinging her over his shoulder. The weasel-faced man came to Analia and tied a gag round her mouth. Analia wretched against the rag, she could taste blood and vomit on it. She felt the man start walking, while the other three began discussing a battle.
The trip lasted for a few hours, the stout man and his companions taking turn manhandling Analia. As far as the woman could tell, they were still along the banks of the Maerin, but how far along they were she had no clue. After what seemed like an eternity of being carried, she mercifully passed out.
“Cap’n, we found you a concubine,” Avery started, setting the unconsciensous woman on the floor, “and we was wonderin’ if you were still offering the reward for ‘em.” Captain Hanem smirked, staring this stout man in the face.
“A reward? Oh I’m ever so sorry, but it seems you’ve gone to all this trouble for nothing,” the captain sneered. “Just leave her with me and get out you bumbling idiot! I have no time for a waste of food such as you. Now I want you to be out of this house in ten seconds, ten, nine…..” The stout man turned tail and ran, ducking through the doorframe of the small cabin. Outside the air was heavy with smoke, and Avery went immediately to the campfire he and his friends shared.
“The bastard!” Avery swore as he seated himself next to Will, the weasel faced man.
“What happened?” asked Nigel, a short mercenary sitting across from him.
“The bastard just took her, and he threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave!” Avery raged, sweat dripping off of his unkempt face. “Ryan, we can’t let him make use of our hard work for nothing. I want to get her back. Do you have anything that might be able to distract him? Ryan, the most educated of the four simply nodded, then rose and strode to his tent. His standard issue Ginorim soldier belt was lying on the floor of his tent. Ryan went inside, closed his tent flaps, and set to work.
“Good to see he’s happy,” Nigel muttered, thinking about the many years he had spent as a mercenary, and how he had never been paid for his services for the empire. “These damned officers think they can boss us around, I’d like to see a single one of them hold their own in a duel,” he spat, startling Avery.
“Be glad that they didn’t hear you. To become a ranking officer, they had to survive a Farhalin with the emperor himself!” Avery informed his squat companion, who grumbled, rose, and went to his tent. Avery sighed, and with a salute to Will, went off to his tent, to sleep on he hard ground of the plains of Falkrir. As the stout man lumbered off into the night, will was focused on sharpening his knives.
Well, the damned captain may have survived a Farhalin, but they haven’t seen a lick of battle since. It would serve the captain right if someone were to take his newest pet, the man thought, scheming ways to get the woman. After thinking for many minutes in silence, the thick stench of meat drove the man to his tent, where he lay down to dream of his home.
The Hunting Animal
Evicus woke to find the sun behind a wall of grey, gloomy clouds. He lay still, listening for possible threats, his slender body was tense, his ears straining. After a few minutes of this, he rose from the ground. It had been a year since the wyrm had attacked the hunters of Riversford. Evicus had been thrown from a low cliff, and he fell into thick underbrush, and rolled into the Wasted River and floated down stream for hours. By the time the boy had gotten to the banks, he was hundreds of leagues from home. He had lived on his own in the wilderness for a month, with only his tanned leather vest and hunting dagger for protection.
Evicus walked over to his food stores, and looked at his sustenance with disgust. Picking through the rotted meat with his dagger, he found a piece still fresh. He stabbed it onto the knife and began to eat. All the while he was aware of his surrounding. He knew that predators couldn’t be far away. About halfway through his meal, a roar sounded only a few hundred stretches away. Evicus stuffed the remainder of the meat into his mouth and turned to face his enemy. A large bear lumbered down the rocky slope, its black fur askew. Evicus hefted his dagger, aiming at the attacker. With only seconds before the bear reached him, the boy whipped the knife, and with a sigh of relief, watched the bear fall and roll down the hill, the boy’s weapon lodged into its skull.
Evicus jogged to the corpse, and with a grimace, reached towards the dagger. He gripped the wet handle, slippery with blood, and gave it a half-hearted tug. The knife came out, a slow flow of blood spilling onto the ground. The boy wiped the knife on his vest, and then set about skinning the bear. It was a tedious task, because Evicus had to be careful with it because he relied on the fur for clothes. He finished his task an hour later, and stood up, stretching his arms. Below him lay the disfigured corpse of a skinned bear, a pool of blood flowing freely onto the dirt and down the hill.
“Banelord, look at him, the boy is ready to come to the temple,” Orrin nudged Banelord, turning his attention to the boy who sat in his shelter below the cliff.
“Orrin, we’ve gone over this,” the old, wizened, man sighed, “I don’t want him until he has killed that wyrm. You know as well as I that if he comes without his payback, he may let it fester-”
“But you speak as though the wyrm killed his mother. It wasn’t so, the wyrm was in danger, and I the fight the boy was knocked from the cliff. The wyrm foiled the hunters attempts to save the boy.”
“I am the Sage master! I will pass judgment, and I deem him unfit to join our ranks,” Banelord boomed, imposing in his subordinate. “I have ruled our order for fifty long, treacherous years. I led the search for the boy, and I found him. Had I been given my way, the wyrm would have saved him and killed the rest, but my power is waning, as it has for all the sages, and I was unable to control the beast,” the Sage master raged, almost losing control.
“Banelord! Stop this, you are dangerous in this state!” The Sage master seemed to hear this, and slowly released his rage.
“I apologize Orrin, I was out of hand. Please, gather the Circle of Rose, we must set things right.”
|11-28-2005, 08:43 PM||#2|
cool story; although I'm not sure what you ment when you said " ...and I the fight the boy was knocked off the cliff.." typo or did i mess up something while i was reading?
Birds of a feather flock together,
And so will pigs and swine;
Rats and mice can have their choice
And so will I have mine.
|11-28-2005, 09:40 PM||#3|
I'm feeling picky tonight.
I think that these two paragraphs could be drawn out if you wanted to, to make them a little less of the “standard fantasy” intro and more interesting. You could show the scene where the hunters return…and her son isn’t with them. Then jump ahead to where she’s sitting. Get inside her head more. Instead of, “she was troubled”, how about getting some more from her point of view. Thoughts. Worries. Staring off into the distance.
For the "Orrin...Banelord" scene, I would like to know more. This short expository, “evesdropping” kind of thing really benefits from a mood – this isn’t just straight storytelling, this here should send a few shivers up our collective spines along with giving some information. What are the gestures of the two men? What do they look like? How is the air, the wind? Think about how this appears to you, and what feeling it gives you. If you don’t get a feeling, put on some CDs until you find something that feels right. And then impart that feeling onto the reader.
So far, this seems pretty standard. It would be a lot more interesting if there was more about the characters and you got into more specifics. I don't mean to reveal the secrets of your story just yet, but there are a lot of general things like "birds" "mountains" "wyrm" [whatever the heck that is...] and if you went into detail, and connected the characters' thoughts with what they were observing/doing, you could improve this greatly.
I think that you could handle my being picky, your writing and English skills seem decent enough. If you're not used to this, don't be offended.
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Last edited by Isis : 11-28-2005 at 09:41 PM.
|11-29-2005, 02:10 PM||#4|
Join Date: Nov 2005
Well, thank you for the critisism. The other website i posted on were all sweet talkers.
Also, I should have made a guide to the language.
A farhalin is a battle trial given to soldiers who have requested an officer rank. Normally a farhalin is held with the man whose position you want to take, but for positions that are empty and high up, the soldier has to fight a officer of general rank or higher.
Oh, and it wasn't so much a prophecy as a prediction. I think a prophecy is like hundreds of years prior, my bad. Ive changed it to Warning for the time being
And Evicus is around 16 years old, I know its confusing, but i needed more pronouns and child and boy help a lot
Writer of Warblood
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