Joined: 24 May 2006
Location: Among the ghastly ghouls that grow progressively more gaunt. Aka The United States of America
|Posted: Thu Dec 25, 2008 4:05 pm Post subject:
|hey peeps, Having a bit of a writer's block.
It's a kinda selective writer's block tho. I can write about pretty much everything except what i want to write about. So i gave up and am posting this interlude instead.
Sand clouds the air, getting everywhere, finding holes in plate and mail that the soldiers didn’t think they had, combining with sweat to form a clogging clinging mud. The soldiers move cautiously, weapons up, their eyes scanning the surrounding area for something else besides their comrades and the swirling sand. Nearly half of them have lights, blue, attached to them, which no amount of effort could remove, at least no amount of effort from an ordinary soldier.
At their head, seen by those in the back as a mass of blue lights, is a giant of a man, seven foot tall and muscled, wearing only black pants. His bare feet pad across the sands, his red eyes squinting against the winds. He feels not the stinging sand against his tough, whitish grey skin, not on his bare chest or his bald head. He carries a peculiar weapon, a morningstar covered with spikes so dense that it, in the obscuring sands that surround, it seems to be almost a sphere. Besides his pants, he wears only a necklace, on which hangs a pendant of a screaming skull. This is the emblem blazoned on the banners and breasts of his army.
Surrounding him is an elite troop, dressed in black as well. Their blank eyes scan the darkness, and, despite their lack of the tough skin of their leader, they ignore the stinging wind. Their movements are jerky, as if puppets on their strings, yet they exude a sense of danger.
Hunters stalked the sands, troops trained to fight in such sandstorms, or in blizzards, or in obscuring fogs. They wear a brownish yellow now, their eyes peering out from slitted cloths. They wear uniforms much more suited to the sand than their opponents.
The sand obscures all, so that the hunters, looking for the blue fires used to mark the enemy, are all but invisible to those they hunt.
A whistle of a blade, followed by a scream pierces the noise of the sandstorm, and the giant snarls.
He trudges onward through the sands, seeking a way out.
Then, hunters, attracted by his blue glow, spring from the surroundings, realizing soon afterward that their prey is not so easy as they expect.
The first falls to the spikes of the morningstar, a second to the men surrounding. The third and fourth scream, briefly, before falling to the ground unconscious. They will soon waste away.
The giant laughs, ignoring the screams behind as more of his own fall, before moving on.
He suddenly emerges from the sands, to feel his feet tread upon the dry grass of the dusty plains. Before him stands the enemy, a man in armor who’s eyes glow yellow as he calls the winds and the sand to whirl and sting.
Three figures, a woman and two men, surround him, dressed in robes of green. Behind them, carried by a hunter leading scores more, is a standard with the black flower of the Amaranth. Next to that standard is a smaller one, emblazoned with a sword and lightning crossed.
The giant roars, baring sharpened teeth, and charges the man. The squad of soldiers that surround the giant separate to hold off the hunters.
The man in armor moves, a metal stick coming into his hand. As his opponent approaches, a blade of pale, flickering lightning blossoms. It dances in the sunlight, eager to bite flesh and rend skin. Behind him the three figures began to chant, their fingers moving rhythmically, rainbow colors flickering between them.
They meet, the morningstar going over the swordsman’s head, the dancing blade piercing the giant’s tough skin as if it were butter. The monster roars and limps back, his leg bleeding white.
He swings again, going lower this time, keeping the swordsman away, but the blade dances around his guard and stretches, adding another scar to the motley collection he bears already.
The giant staggers back, then charges again, the morningstar in one hand, swinging his whole body to make the blow faster and stronger.
The swordsman ducks the morningstar, the blade extending to atta-
The giant’s other hand backhands him as he does a complete turn, hitting him just as the figures flick their hands up, their spell completed, a rainbowlike shimmer springing into place about the swordsman. Similar multicolored shimmerings surround the three as well.
The giant’s hand hits the ribbons of light, is held there for a moment, then with a grunt of effort, he sends the swordsman flying back towards the three.
One of the men winces in pain.
As the four shimmers approach each other, they merge, to form a larger ribbon, and the man relaxes slightly.
The giant roars and smashes the morningstar into the shimmers, and the woman screams in pain as the ribbons halt the spikes.
The morningstar strikes again, and this time the woman falls to the ground, her eyes open in death.
The giant starts to smash the shimmers a third time, then snarls as the blade of lightning lances out of the shield to pierce his arm.
The giant snarls again, trying and failing to dodge the lightning.
Then he stands, as the storm of lightning darts and flickers, shedding white blood, his red eyes glowing bright, staring into the eyes of the swordsman.
The swordsman falters, the fluid dance of the sword broken, then resumed, then broken again. He stops completely, then with a mighty groan, the sword becomes a normal length, and he hacks at one of the men beside him, all artistry vanished. The shield falters as the last of the figures gapes in horror, before several spikes enter his skull.
The sandstorm evaporates as its caster, yellow eyes now blank, joins the battle between the bodyguard of the giant and the Amaranth’s hunters.
The giant laughs, and starts to enter the fray.
“SoulShredder.” A musical voice slithers around the noises of the battle.
He turns, to see the dead woman, now standing seductively behind him.
Her face remains pale, and she doesn’t breathe, but her eyes glow with life. They change gradually, to become multicolored, the irises bands of colors that ring her pupil. Stare into those eyes long enough and they would become spirallike, hypnotic.
She avoids SoulShredder’s red gaze.
The eyes become fully multicolored, and the woman’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. She stretches luxuriously.
“That’s much better,” she says.
Soulshredder smiles as well, a smile that is more than half snarl.
“DreamStealer. Nice to see you, as always.”
The ringed eyes narrow. “Cut the crap. You know StormLancer was mine. He was halfway convinced into defecting from the Amaranth, and he thought it was all his own idea. I had half of his high command, including this one,” she gestures at the body she wears before continuing. “entranced. A couple weeks and he would have been feeding information about the whole of the Amaranth's campaign into our ears.”
Soulshredder keeps the smile on his face, although it is now mostly snarl.
“Are you sure? When I tore up his mind I didn’t notice anything at all. You’d think that such entrancing would leave some mental trace, wouldn’t you!”
The woman bristles. “That’s because you have all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He WAS mine!”
“It was thin at best. And don’t you think you should show a bit more respect? You still remain one of the NightBringers, and relatively new at that.”
“So are you, SoulShredder.”
“Ah, but there is an opening among the ShadowSworn, and guess who’ll be filling it? After all, the Demoness came from our ranks as well.”
The woman smiles smugly, before replying. “You mean you haven’t heard the news? There’s been a new recruit. The Hunted is now the Seventh ShadowSworn.”
The smile is now completely a snarl.
“And on that note, I think I’ll leave. Be sure to clean up that mess completely. Ta-ta now!”
The life in the woman’s eyes vanish, and the irises return to a plain brown, as the corpse collapses to the ground, devoid of the last spark of life.
SoulShredder growls and smashes the head of a hunter with the morningstar.
So yeah, that's what i wrote while i was TRYING to write the next chappie. I was trying to illustrate some other characters in this world, as well as demonstrate the competition between the NightBringers. Just cuz they're evil doesn't make them on the same side.
Comments please, and Merry Christmas!