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Kalanna Rai
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 Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 1:54 am Post subject: Shatterglass- Hiatus |
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This is a little different from what I usually do. Bear with me, it'll get as interesting as you make it. Enjoy!
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Shatterglass- A Darker FairyTale
Prologue- In Winter's Wood
She'd become seperated from her escort some time ago. At first she'd been relieved, her first taste of freedom in recent memory. But now, as fat white flakes of snow fell from an angry pewter sky, Lady Alwynn shivered. They should have found her by now, she couldn't have gotten that far from them. Her disquiet communicated itself to the white mare she rode. The placid animal grew nervous, pulling at the bit and snorting, ears swiveling.
The trees, with bark black with age and limbs made skeletal by winter, seemed to press in closer. A wolf howled. It's pack answered. And Alwynn's poor horse's nerves could take no more. The animal bolted headlong into the growing twilight, taking Alwynn herself along for the ride. The Lady clutched tightly at the reins, unable to gain control of the steed, not daring to let go. If she fell chances were no one would find her and she dared not risk the wolves on foot.
Branches whipped her, tearing her fine clothes, ripping gashes in her fur cloak. Angry weals were raised on her hands, bloody scratches dappled her face. Her runaway steed plunged up an embankment and down a rock strewn gully. Alwynn, who'd always prided herself on her knowledge of the Forest and all it's secret places, quickly found herself unable to recognize anything. Desperately her eyes sought the familiar in the blurring landscape but only the alien caught her sight.
With a shrill scream her horse suddenly went down, throwing Alwynn to the ground. She landed on her back, her head hitting the ground with an echoing thud. Dull pain bloomed in her skull, slowly leeching the world from before her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That was how he found her an hour later, sprawled upon the ground with a thin mantle of snow over her. Her steed stood nearby, too lamed to go far. His stud, scenting the mare, grew restive and pawed the turf but was too well trained to do more than that. His companion regarded him with one solemn, amber eye.
"She's a tender morsel isn't she?" It said with a snap of it's beak. "Such a pretty lady, so far from her part of the Forest. Oh may I have the eyes Master?"
He glared at his companion until the amber eyes turned away in shame. Placing the creature upon his saddle horn, he dismounted and walked over to where Alwynn lay. He brushed the snow from her features, feeling at the delicate skin of her wrists for the sign of life. His lips curled as her heart pulsed against his touch, a strong one this maid. He brushed more of the snow from her, his jaded eyes taking in her finery without comment. Finally, as he drew her heavy cloak tighter about her, he looked back at his companion.
"She's too fine a Lady to be out alone. Check and see if there are any others in the area."
It regarded him strangely for a moment, as if he'd grown antlers, before nodding it's head. "I go."
He waited a moment to make sure the creature had departed to do as it was bid, then stood and brushed the snow from his knees. His attention swung to the lamed steed and he walked toward the mare slowly, palms out-stretched. The mare huffed uneasily and shifted back from him. He cooed to her, speaking to her in the language of all living things, soothing her. A shiny red apple, far out of season, appeared in his palm and was offered to her. His own steed snorted at his largess drawing a wry smile to his lips. "Hush. One apple is hardly a sacrifice."
The mare relaxed as he spoke to her calmly, all while he kept half an eye on the Lady in the snow. A pressure in the air, a sudden presence, announced the return of his companion. He fixed it's amber gaze with his own, raising an elegant brow in unspoken question.
It clacked it's beak at him and shook it's head. "There are others. Men on horses with hounds. But they are at the Edge, they cannot pass into the Forest proper." It turned and gazed longingly at Alwynn. "She's well and truly ours."
Slowly the man led the mare over to his stud, looping the reins through a ring in the saddle. "No." He told the stud sternly and it favored him with a very dirty glare. Then he walked over and scooped Alwynn out of the snow. Holding her as gently as any babe and as easily as if she weighed nothing, he swung into his own saddle. Making sure she was secure in his arms and settled easily before him in the saddle, he turned the stud for home.
"What! You can't be serious! She's-" His companion hopped up and down in alarm, eyes wide and unbelieving.
He paid little heed to the creature, his jaw setting more firmly. "I can. I am. I know exactly what she is."
"Then why this madness? Surely you're not going to steal her! She's a Highborn Lady for Vannon's sake! Put her back, let the Forest have her."
He simply smiled. "The Forest had her...and it gave her to me."
The creature shook it's head again. "Your Father's not going to like this."
"No, he won't. But Mother will be thrilled."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alwynn woke slowly. She was cold, so cold, stiff and sore. There was warmth at her back, steady and sure, and warmth encircling her. A warm breeze, gusting slightly, puffed against her face and filled her nostrils, sweet as summer clover. The ground was moving like the sea, rocking back and forth and side to side all at once. Then her eyes slowly floated open and she was terrified to realize she was on horseback and the man holding her wasn't one of her father's guards... he wasn't even a man.
His features were as fine as spun glass, the stamp of nobility etched into every line. His eyes were almond in shape and color and his hair was like drizzled honey in a halo around his head. His ears were long and slenderly pointed, curving so that the tips nearly touched behind him. He blew one last misty breath upon her and smiled. "Ah, you're awake. I confess I almost thought you a lost cause, beyond my power to revive."
He was enchanting, his eyes reflecting warmly the smile on his lips. At once she found herself replying. "Alwynn Urenre."
"Alwynn Urenre, Mystic of Uren..." He repeated her name and it's meaning softly, enriching it and making it sound exotic. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"And your name good sir?"
He laughed. "Not even my Father knows my name Lady and my Mother forgot it the moment she spoke it. You may call me whatever you wish but I doubt it will be my name."
She stared at him for the longest time, trying to come up with something witty, some delicate reply, but nothing came to her. Only his hair, how the light struck it, his glowing smile. "Anramun."
He raised a brow at her. "Golden am I? You flatter me Alwynn."
Alwynn gasped as a cry split the air, a creature's shadow briefly blocking the sky. Anramun soothed her, his fingers gently pushing a lock of hair from her face.
"Pay no attention to that, it's rather put out with me...for helping you." The last he added to answer the unspoken question on her face. "If it had it's way you would not be alive."
"So I owe you my life sir and I would beg, on whatever made you spare me, that you return me to my kin..." her words died on her lips as the howls of wolves echoed around them.
Alwynn's poor mare shrilled a cry even as Anramun's stud screamed a challenge. Anramun called something to his companion in a language Alwynn had never heard and would never understand. The shadow of the creature departed instantly and Anramun turned to Alwynn. "It seems I have angered the Mejori. They were hunting you and regard my intrusion as abominable."
He slid from his horse and lowered her down after him. "I must redress this error in combat. If I win, then you are my prey to keep or kill. If I lose then your only hope is to sit in this tree and wait for help." He picked her up gently, setting her into the lower limbs of an ancient tree.
"Anramun-" her cry was cut off by the appearance of the Mejori. Six of them altogether, the smallest the size of the pony she'd had in childhood. Their eyes were possessed of an intelligence beyond that of most mortal men and long horns sprouted from their brows, curving back toward their shoulders. The largest of them, a male with a grizzled blue-silver pelt, strode towards Anramun.
It dipped it's head to him and then began 'speaking'. It's whines and barks, growls and guttural noises, snorts and even a short howl were words, a language, older than any man spoke. Anramun replied in kind, bowing his own head to signal the end of their conversation. Slowly, three of the Mejori took up places around Anramun. The three elders fell back. Alwynn was confused. Was he fighting three or six? Would the elders rush in when the younger pack members fell?
Blood spattered the snow, the horses gave loud cries, and one Mejori landed in a lifeless heap. Anramun was breathing hard, sheened with sweat and dappled with blood, but unharmed...and curiously unarmed. What had he used to bring the creature down? Alwynn peered closer, determined to see the next attack in it's whole. But, during a betraying blink, she once again missed the split second encounter.
Another Mejori fell, front legs severed from it's body, belly spilling entrails. Anramun stood like a drunken man, golden hair in it's shining plate hanging limp. It's length was soaked in blood, tacky tip slapping wetly against his trembling knees. Sweat dripped from him, blood ran from gashes in his sides. The grizzled Mejori 'spoke' again and Anramun wearily replied. Then the third Mejori attacked.
This time Alwynn saw the blade of light that burst from Anramun's hand. Saw it split the flesh of the Mejori with ease. Saw it suck the life out of Anramun. He was kneeling in the snow now, blood running freely from nose and the corners of his mouth. But the Mejori bowed to him, one by one. They were leaving.
Alwynn slipped from the tree, tumbling to the ground and remaining motionless for a moment. When she mustered the strength to crawl across the snow, she did so, determined to reach Anramun. He still knelt in the snow, he bowed, blood dripping freely into the lank length of his hair, onto his knees, onto his hands. He looked up at her and blinked slowly. "You're safe."
"What happened to you?" She tore the hem of her skirt and tried to wipe away the blood on his face but there was always more. "They didn't touch you...what went wrong."
"Nothing." He said thickly. "My power is giving life where none should be, restoring life destroyed unthinkingly. Resurrection... For me to take life is..." a spasm wracked him. "For me to take one life is horrible but allotted to me. For me to take two lives deprives me of my strength for a season. Three..." he looked at her steadily.
"Then why..."
"Because the Forest wants it. I can hear it. It gave you to me, it let the Mejori find us. It wanted the bloodshed, the lives." He coughed and pulled something from around his neck, pressing it into her hands with his bloody ones. He then looked at her searchingly. "Forgive me."
The kiss was sudden and strong, invasive and powerful. Something seemed to pour into her, choking her briefly. Pain seared her hips and wetness drenched her skirts, warm and trickling. She pulled back from him with a scream, scrambling as far back as she could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They regarded the girl from jeweled eyes, speaking in hushed tones. The male was tall, his resemblance to his son clear to any with eyes. His stag's antlers shook with his silent fury as he stared at his wife. "She cannot go. She-"
"Must go. Our son knew it, I know it. If she stays the Forest will ensure she dies before it is time." Her willowy form and gilded colors marked her as Anramun's mother, her determination as well.
With a sigh and gesture Anramun's father acquiesced to her wishes. "Alright, escort her back to her people. Make sure she is found."
"And her memories?"
The stag man smiled bitterly. "Better she forget."
------------------------------
Note, this is a horror story, not a fantasy despite all apperances. More is forthcoming, hope you liked!
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"Music makes you braver."
Last edited by Kalanna Rai on Mon Mar 29, 2010 9:58 pm; edited 16 times in total
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Black Hawk
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| Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 6:56 am Post subject: |
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wow that was weird a fairy tale horror story? I digress it is original most horror storyies are modern or futuristic
buton another note who is Anramun's companion
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Last edited by Black Hawk on Mon Jul 14, 2008 2:55 pm; edited 1 time in total
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shy_blu_eyes
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| Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 11:14 am Post subject: |
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I love it! My only complaint is that you intend to make this a horror story, but I'm willing to see how you bring that change about.
Black Hawk, I'm sure Kalanna can tell you better than me but the way I understood it, Anramun's companion was a one-eyed crow.
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A Mysterious Witch, A Bloodthirsty Noble, A Druid with one personality too many, and An Assassin with a price on his head...
and those are the "Good Guys".
Welcome, to the Barony of Wyndshire!
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Phantomfan
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| Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 11:37 am Post subject: |
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I F5 Shyes... this prologue is awesome!
Can't wait to read more!!
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I've been pulled back from oblivion to lurk about the City once more. Though the music of the night always beckons...
Here's some stuff I started writing a long time ago. Orb. Nexus.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 9:59 pm Post subject: |
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Anramun's companion is neither a crow nor one-eyed. What it is may be revealed at a later point in time. For now, you'll just have to be paitent. Chapter One is not quite ready for release.
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"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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shy_blu_eyes
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| Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2008 7:13 am Post subject: |
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| Kalanna Rai wrote: | His companion regarded him with one solemn, amber eye.
"She's a tender morsel isn't she?" It said with a snap of it's beak. "Such a pretty lady, so far from her part of the Forest. Oh may I have the eyes Master?"
He glared at his companion until the amber eyes turned away in shame. Placing the creature upon his saddle horn...
A pressure in the air, a sudden presence, announced the return of his companion. He fixed it's amber gaze with his own, raising an elegant brow in unspoken question.
It clacked it's beak at him and shook it's head. "There are others. Men on horses with hounds. But they are at the Edge, they cannot pass into the Forest proper." It turned and gazed longingly at Alwynn. "She's well and truly ours."
...
"What! You can't be serious! She's-" His companion hopped up and down in alarm, eyes wide and unbelieving.
...
Alwynn gasped as a cry split the air, a creature's shadow briefly blocking the sky. Anramun soothed her, his fingers gently pushing a lock of hair from her face.
"Pay no attention to that, it's rather put out with me...for helping you." The last he added to answer the unspoken question on her face. "If it had it's way you would not be alive."
|
Well, I must admit that I'm stumped,
and more than a little bit curious...
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A Mysterious Witch, A Bloodthirsty Noble, A Druid with one personality too many, and An Assassin with a price on his head...
and those are the "Good Guys".
Welcome, to the Barony of Wyndshire!
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| Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2008 7:40 am Post subject: |
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Hey there,
I know we were talking in chat last night, and somehow my post didn't go through. So, I wanted to try to post it again. Basically, it's a pretty good story--mysterious, of course--that has left me wanting more. The blaring issue that I can't get past, though, is your "it's/its" problem. I tried to re-read the story but all that jumped out was "it's it's it's".
It's: Contraction of it is. Examples: It's going to rain. It's a costume party.
Its: For possession. Much like his or hers for things without gender or with unidentifiable gender. Examples: It snapped its beak. Its wrath was immense. I threw a rock at its face.
Wohoo. Keep writing, because I'll keep reading  .
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| Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2008 8:03 am Post subject: |
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| Alright horror! I'm thinking there are many birdtype of things with beaks. I think it could be a half-bird or something like that, much like a harpy, jealous creatures ^_^ I'd like to see heads on pikes... did I miss anything.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Wed Jul 16, 2008 1:36 am Post subject: |
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Okay it's time to begin the descent. Enjoy!
------------------------
Chapter One: Lady Alwynn's Bastard Son
As the sky to the east pinkened like raw meat, the denizens of the lands of Uren began to stirr. In the castle Keep and the town that sprawled at it's feet, in the fields that surrounded them. As light crept in, lords and peasants alike began to wake slowly from pleasant slumber. And in one crofter's cottage at the edge of the Forest a small child crouched in fear under the stairs, watching as her parents were torn to shreds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He woke with a start, dispossessed voices muttering in his ears. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, his brain to shake off the haze of sleep. He stood, allowing the blankets to fall and pool on the floor, and walked to the window. His room, a tower room and one of the worst in the whole of the Keep, afforded him a spectacular view of the Forest. That was where the voices were coming from.
A child's scream grated at the edge of his hearing and he felt the loss of her soul keenly. With a violent oath he slammed his fist against the solid stone of the window arch. As the sun spilled it's first golden rays upon the land, only he knew the discovery that awaited some unfortunate soul. He turned away, the sight sickening him. He could have helped, should have helped. Instead he was as much a prisoner in this tower as those wretches that occupied Earl Urenre's dungeons.
He needed to calm himself and the dawn gave him the perfect excuse. He sat down at the desk in the room and pulled a simple bone comb from the drawer. Then, with trembling fingers, he undid the long plait that hung down his back. Slowly he drug the comb through his golden locks, soothing his nerves as he stroked the glossy ripples of honeyed silk. When his hands were steady he began the arduous task of plaiting it up again.
It wasn't easy. When finished the braid itself was as thick as a man's wrist at the base of his skull and tapered to the width of two fingers at the backs of his knees. But it was something that soothed him, calmed him, and kept him linked tightly to his past. Weak glamours might lend him an air of humanity but he never wanted to forget who he truly was. And it certainly wasn't simply Anramun, Lady Alwynn's bastard son.
A knock sounded at his door and a serving maid entered. She dipped a simpering curtsy as he stood, showing a generous amount of her bosom. "My Lord," she said somewhat breathlessly "your Grandfather requests your presence in his study immediately."
He smiled at her, lacing on a vest. "You must be very new here lass."
"My lord?"
He smiled again. "You made two mistakes. One, nobody around here calls me 'Lord'. And two, nobody calls Earl Urenre my Grandfather. Unpleasant things happen to them." He swept a cloak over his shoulders and brushed past her, leaving the maid standing in his doorway. Stunned.
He took the spiraling steps two at a time, sure-footed as anything. The steps had been carved with the stocky, solid folk of Uren in mind. The mason's had never taken into consideration that anybody with Anramun's willowy form might dwell within the thick stone walls of the Keep. And, under normal circumstances, they'd have been right. But Fate had other plans...that bitch usually did.
He strolled through the nearly deserted corridors with a feral grace. Servants smiled at him briefly, eyes darting around to make sure none saw this small act of defiance. Some of the house servants liked Anramun. He was a friendly sort for being not quite human, certainly more friendly than their fully human Lord. Still, the house was hostile territory and those that hated him far outnumbered those that did not. The stables, the kennels, and the mews...those were a different story. Where their were animals, and people working closely with them, there was great respect for him. Animals knew exactly what they were dealing with...and were far less judgemental.
The two door guards scowled at him as he walked up to the Earl's study, their halberds quivering with the suppressed urge to skewer him. The Guard were firmly entrenched against him, not even his excellence with weapons could sway their favor. He dismissed them. They were not his concern, his provenience. They took far too much life to ever be on easy terms with him.
Slowly they allowed him to pass, one grudgingly opening the door for him. They slammed it as quickly as they could, very nearly catching his cloak hem in the process. The study was warm, lit by a leaping fire and the growing light of the dawn. The Earl stood facing that fire, back to Anramun. His hands were clenched in a fist at the small of his back, his feet spread. Parade rest. Judging by the air of exhaustion surrounding him, the Earl had not slept much the previous night.
He kept Anramun waiting a long while, a sign of scorn. When he did turn, easing himself into the chair behind the massive desk, he did not invite Anramun to sit. Instead he shuffled pieces of parchment and rolled up a thin length of vellum, placing this last inside a scroll case and sealing it up. Then he finally looked up at the bastard born to his eldest daughter.
"You know why I've sent for you." It was not a question but a statement of fact. His gravelly voice, iron hard tone brooking no opposition. "More have been found. More of my people not just slaughtered but...defiled."
Anramun thought of the soul of the girl-child he'd felt ripped asunder not two hours past and held his tongue. That death, and those surrounding it, could not have been discovered yet. These must be last weeks, the four hunters he'd felt fall. His almond eyes stared steadily into the Earl's muddy brown. He could feel the man struggling for words, almost drowning in the humans hatred of him.
"I'll tell you again, I'm not-"
"Silence!" The Earl thundered, slamming a fist on his desk. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about what you've done to my little girl. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder if I should part that golden head of yours from your body and see if your inhuman father appears to stop me. Not a day goes by that I don't want to put that whole accursed forest to the torch and see if that cleanses the evil from my land."
He took a deep breath, slowly unclenched his fingers. "If I ever find the fiend that sired you..." He subsided for a moment, he always did. Anramun waited patiently for the man to continue. He shuddered as he thought of the implication of the Earl's words. Putting the Forest to the torch? That would ensure the death of every man, woman, and child that dwelled in the lands of Uren...and many beyond.
"Sir-"
The Earl cut him off. "I swore to protect these people and I've upheld that oath for forty-three years, since I took over from my Father. I will not allow you to jeopardy them any more, you and your sick magics and foul, wicked ways." He stood now. "The King is coming and if I find one more body, I'll see that you hang from a gibbet until you rot. Maybe that will finally put Alwynn's mind at peace." This last he muttered to himself.
It was well known that Lady Alwynn was never the same after she was found in the Forest. Some said it was the blow she took to the head, others said it was the result of foul magic. And a few whispered that it might just be the begetting and whelping of her strange, inhuman bastard that had snapped her mind. Made her simple and child-like. Anramun often wondered that if he healed her, restored her, if the Earl Urenre would allow his hate to lessen...just a fraction. Then he remembered who he was dealing with and put such foolish notions as peace out of his head.
Anramun watched the Earl stand with impassive eyes, hearing the soft creaks and pops the belied the mans age. The Earl was too proud to admit he was growing old but sheer stubbornness would not deny the Reaper. The Earl looked back at the fire. "Don't think this is an idle threat Anramun. If my people continue to die I will see you dead. Maybe if I'm lucky, one of the Court Sorseers will be traveling with the King." He smiled over his shoulder. "Wouldn't that just be lovely?"
Anramun knew a dismissal when he heard one. He bowed low to the Earl, respectful in every way, the turned on his heel and stalked back out the door. He passed through the twisting halls of the Keep, bursting out into the brilliant sunshine of the Courtyard. Voices called out to him, people too far from the Earl's shadow to care if they were caught fraternizing with him. He smiled and waved, catching a puppy as it darted past him and returning it to the frantic boy that chased it.
Slowly he made his way to the stables, savoring that first whiff of straw and horse. Twenty sleek, glossy heads turned his way, the crown jewels of the Earl's herd. They whinnied and nickered at him, horsey greetings echoing down the aisle. They ignored even the stable boys who came with buckets of oats and barrows for the soiled straw, stretching long necks to nuzzle his hands. He laughed, pitching his voice low and soft, murmuring soothingly. If his words were indistinct, hard to follow, the stable boys didn't mind. Anramun was one of them, accepted here in ways he was not elsewhere.
Here his inhumanity was a blessing, a boon. Animals resonated with him on levels no human could match. Better than that, he understood their language and spoke it in kind. A touch of his hand could cure their aliments and, if the elder stable hands were to be believed, he'd brought a dead foal back to life. But that was just as story...
He slipped into a stall with the Earl's prized stallion, a chestnut glory called Iylamus...Old Soul. Iyalmus was ill-tempered and high spirited. He'd crippled one man for life, maimed another with his steel-shod hooves and snapping teeth. His bulk had nearly crushed one small lad to death when he'd slammed the boy violently against the stall wall. But he never misbehaved when Anramun handled him. Indeed he pranced like a colt, danced like a shy filly. Blew slobbery breaths into the bastard's chest.
And Anramun groomed him, every morning, to a copper gleam as bright as anything. And he always spoke to him for Iylamus was aptly named...he was a very old soul indeed.
What is wrong with you my friend? Iylamus picked out Anramun's dark mood instantly, ears swiveling in distress.
More have died and when the Earl learns of their deaths my own life shall be forfeit. His hands worked the brush listlessly along the copper coat, the deft movements automatic but lacking their usual emotion. I cannot do it again Old Soul, cannot call upon the magic of another ReBirth.
Humm yes...that would make you Thrice-Born wouldn't it. Rather unpleasant situation to be in.
Anramun snorted in a horse-like manner. Trust Iylamus to understate it. The horse nudged him and he stroked the stallion's velvet muzzle.
What am I to do?
--------------------------------
Well he's in a bit of a tough spot folks. It's only a matter of time until someone looks in that crofter's cottage and finds the dead.
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Well there you are, your first DP. Hope you liked!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Serge Wolf
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| Posted: Wed Jul 16, 2008 1:48 am Post subject: |
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| I say he risk the ReBirth route and saves his hide.
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Phantomfan
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| Posted: Wed Jul 16, 2008 6:15 pm Post subject: |
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Rai, this is a truly awesome story, even so far. Very imaginative... I could go on, but I'm sure you've heard it all before.
As far as the dp goes, I would say make a run for it.
I mean, if he is going to possibly loose his life anyway, I think he'd better try to get as far away from there as he possibly can.
_________________
I've been pulled back from oblivion to lurk about the City once more. Though the music of the night always beckons...
Here's some stuff I started writing a long time ago. Orb. Nexus.
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shy_blu_eyes
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| Posted: Wed Jul 16, 2008 8:32 pm Post subject: |
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I agree with Lil, but why wait? With the king due to arrive can the Eral really afford to spend the time and energy looking for him?
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A Mysterious Witch, A Bloodthirsty Noble, A Druid with one personality too many, and An Assassin with a price on his head...
and those are the "Good Guys".
Welcome, to the Barony of Wyndshire!
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 10:46 pm Post subject: |
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Okay so far the options are...
1. Stay and risk another ReBirth.
2. Get as far away as possible.
3. Take the horse and run like hell.
One more day of suggestion time left, hurry and get those choices in. *grins*
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"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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| Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 11:17 pm Post subject: |
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| What if he takes the horse and runs and ends up where he's find alot of guards, looking at him, taunting him with their eyes. Well, he can be confused, so it'll then make a good option to make up a story. It be cool if there is someone that already found out, and blackmails him. ^_^
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 1:24 am Post subject: |
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Okay, the poll is running! Get those votes in!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Dean
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| Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 8:53 am Post subject: |
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Interesting story.  I voted for taking the horse and running. Horses run fast and far. Take us to a new location and pitch the next bit of the story at us! ^^
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shy_blu_eyes
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| Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 9:42 am Post subject: |
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*Thwaks bob*
BAD monkeydog! Leave Dean alone.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 12:42 am Post subject: |
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Alright, I closed the poll early so I could get this out to you all. Enjoy!
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Chapter Two: Fugitive
Iylamus fixed him with one liquid eye. Flee. Flee my Prince. Climb on my back and I will carry you far from these ignorant savages, far from these noxious fumes, from these daily deaths and carrion stink of despair. He nudged Anramun and turned around to present his back, looking at him paitently.
Anramun rubbed the stallions withers, thinking deeply about the idea. I can't just go. There are things I need...
Then gather them. Iylamus said with a toss of his head, pawing the straw of his stall impaitently. He lipped at his grain while Anramun gathered up the grooming kit. Don't take too long though, I've the feeling your limited freedom is going to become no freedom at all very soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was dark by the time Anramun had gathered the things he would need. It had been no easy task to procure some of them. Now, as he padded silently toward the stables, Anramun couldn't help but feel the first stirrings of guilt. He was deserting these people when they needed him most, when they had no defenses of their own. He shrugged the feeling away. He'd do them no good dead...or as a drooling infant. Better to go now than risk starting his life-cycle all over again.
A muffled sound made him stop, pressing himself into the meager shadows of the hallway. It was coming from behind the door across from him, the door to Lady Alwynn's room. Instantly Anramun knew that there was one piece of buisness he couldn't leave without attending to. He crossed the floor, putting a keen ear to the doorway. The sound of muffled sobs could clearly be heard within. But only one heartbeat, one life, could be sensed.
He opened the door softly and slunk across the room, all boneless grace and cat-like stalking. Lady Alwynn stood at her window, face turned to the cold moon, tears running down her cheeks. She didn't notice him as he stole close and looked around for the nurse that perpetually accompanied her. Just as he reached out to touch her, she turned and looked at him. "Anramun?"
He smiled and nodded, wincing at the child-like pitch, the barely restrained sobs. She suddenly wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. "She jumped, oh she jumped. She just sat up and looked at me..." she shuddered. "Oh and her eyes, they were gone! All black and hollow!" She shivered harder, something biting into his stomach as she tried to press herself into his skin.
He pushed her back a bit, recognizing the necklace he'd given her twenty years ago as the source of the discomfort. Slowly he lifted it over her head, placing it around his own neck instead. He'd almost forgotten to collect this. Then he returned his gaze to Alwynn. "Who jumped? Who had black eyes?"
"Byrel. Byrel...she just looked at me and said those horrible words...then she jumped."
Anramun was cold. Byrel was Alwynn's nurse, her keeper and a trusted member of the Earl's staff. He rushed to the window and looked out upon the ground below. There was no sign of Byrel, nor had he felt her death. Which meant Byrel had either not been alive, which wouldn't have been possible to hide from him, or that she'd not been human. Which was entirely possible. It shook him that a construct or the like could have been slipped into the Keep without his knowing.
"What did she say to you Alwynn? What horrible words?" He smiled at her, stroaking her hair like you would a small, frightened child.
She sniffled and smiled back to him. "She said...she said..." she closed her eyes and spoke in a very deep and eerie voice. "One with no life rises to greet the golden prince. Then shall twilight eclipse the brilliance of dawn and the Winter Wood shall rule. Even now must the eagle flee lest the crows of Urenre feast upon his carcass. The sheild of light weakens and the Mejori howl in the shadows. The Sacrifice was not in vain, your gift has turned upon you."
Anramun reeled back from her words. The message had obviously been intended for him and him alone. But how could they have known that he intended to flee? Tonight? He looked back at Alwynn's tearfilled eyes and surpressed a tremor of fury. How dare they take it out on her. "Alwynn...I'm going to give you a presant, would you like that?"
Her horror and fear forgotten with the mention of a gift, she clapped her hands together and squealed softly in delight. Slowly Anramun lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss soft, imparting something long ago taken from her. When he pulled back she had a soft, drugged look in her eyes. "Sleep," he commanded and was instantly obeyed, her limp body falling into his arms.
He carried her back to her bed and pulled the blankets up tightly around her. Without a backward glance he slipped out of the room. He sprinted down the hallway, footfalls light and silent, trusting speed to see him through.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Upon reaching the stables he found Iylamus waiting for him, grooming kit in his teeth. He spit it into Anramun's hand when it was extended, snorting. You didn't expect me to look like a ruffian did you?
Any other time, Anramun might have laughed at the stallion. Now he simply pulled a chest strap off of it's peg, snapping it around the forequarters of the steed. He settled a riding blanket, a light and airy type of saddle, across Iylamus broad back. Opening the door, he led the stallion down the aisle, wincing at the silent looks the other horses gave him. Their soft calls of good-luck nearly brought him to tears. It hadn't been this bad with either the hounds, who didn't always understand the things he told them, or with those in the mews, who were sad but glad for him. His wings had been fettered far too long they'd told him.
The horses were smart enough to know he was going forever and heartbroken enough to let him know they knew. They wished him luck, told Iylamus to run swift and strong, and turned their tails upon him. He wished he could reassure them, tell them he was coming back. But he wasn't sure that if, when, he returned there would still be a stables. Or if any of these noble beasts would be in it.
He led Iylamus outside and around the stables, toward a side door of the keep. The two guards standing watch were tired and cold, the summer night as chill as mid autumn. It didn't take much power to put them both to sleep and open the heavily barred door between them. Nor to shut and bar it behind him once he and Iylamus were clear of it.
Then he swung up on the steed's back, wrapped his fingers tightly in the long, flaxen mane before him, and lightly put his heels into Iylamus sides. The stallion bolted forward, hurling across the grassy distance that separated the Keep from the brackish waters of it's moat. Had anyone been thinking that Iylamus was simply a well-bred stallion, that thought would have been shattered as it lept the massive expanse of the moat in one easy bound.
Then they were running through the streets of the town that clustered at the foot of the keep, like children to the hem of their mothers skirts. Not a soul stirred as Anramun and Iylamus rushed past, the stallion's steel-shod hooves making no sound as they struck blue sparks from the cobbles. Yet more proof that the Earl's prized stallion was no more normal than the bastard that rode it. But what could you expect of a foal sired by an unknown stud, stillborn and raised to life by an inhuman form of magic?
The twisting cobbles gave way to the dirt tracks of less wealthy areas until, at last, they were slogging through the mud of the slums. The stench of the place, the abject filth and poverty, crashed against Anramun's senses like a hammer. He felt creeping death everywhere, glutting itself on those too unfortunate enough to afford the simple medicines that would heal them. On those too young for the long hours of labor the endured. On those injured and carlessly discarded as useless. When the horrors that approached reached this place, Anramun did not give the souls who dwelled here odds of any kind.
They were the Earl's cannon fodder and would be the shock troops of his foe.
Sweet clean air filled his lungs as they broke from the confines of the city and into the fields surrounding them. On the western horizon the Forest was a dark, beckoning smudge. A scream, horrific and intense, floated from its edges to his ears. The feeling of a soul being shredded, fed to a thousand ravening mouths, scraped across his being. He whispered a prayer for the small child, lured from his bed by an irresistable pull. But even as he wept, Anramun knew there was nothing he could do. Turning Iylamus resolutely east, the pair rode off into the growing dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Earl Urenre glared at his guards where they knelt on the floor before him and resisted the urge to seize a sword and strike off their heads. "Gone?" he repeated. "The bastard is gone?"
"Fled in the night m'lord." One of the guardsman repeated tonelessly, awaiting his Lord's wrath.
"And with my prize stallion no less." His hands were clasped together so hard that the tendons were cracking under the pressure. He should never have said the King was coming, never mentioned Sorseers. But it was too late. He swore softly. "We have no time to spare with the King's progress only days away, everything must be in order."
"Perhaps m'lord could ask a boon of the King? Ask for the use of a Sorseer if one is with his majesty?"
The Earl's muddy eyes swept over the guardsman who'd spoken, but not in rage. "The idea has merit but I'm ill-inclined to beg anything of my brother. The bastard will have to wait...for now," the Earl finished darkly.
He had just instructed the guardsmen to rise when a flustered woman swept into his chambers and tumbled into a trembling curtsey. "Lord! M'lord!"
"What is it woman!" the Earl snapped, his temper frayed.
"Your daughter, the Lady Alwynn she's..." the woman faltered, trembling with such excitment that her words would not come forth.
"Alwynn what! OUT WITH IT!!!"
The lady laughed with joy. "Oh sir, she's come back to us!"
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DP- How does the Earl take this news? How does it affect his views toward Anramun.
-----------------------------------
Well shadows gather and our hero has taken flight....I wonder what's instore. Hope you liked!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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shy_blu_eyes
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| Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 9:20 am Post subject: |
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I believe that the Earl would be delighted to have his daughter restored, and a tender reunion scene between them would be an excellent way to give him some depth as a character.
As for Anrumun, I'm certain the Eral's prejudices would only allow one interpretation. The Earl would believe that his daughter has been bewitched by Anrumun, and his departure was her cure. Perhaps now he will even believe that the only way to really protect her from Anrumun in the future is to hunt him down and destroy him...
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Syranore
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| Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 2:00 pm Post subject: |
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nice story, F5 Shyes
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Directive Chapter 2 -Complete
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dinranwen
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| Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 9:00 am Post subject: |
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A note flutters and falls upon the forest floor as silent as the darkness itself but with the air of an innocent on it that hints that pen that wrote it was no servant of the dark but rather of the light, yet there is something else too like the smell of something long forgotten...like the sound of memory never made. It reads:
Interesting Dragoness. Very interesting.
Another to add to my list of things to watch from the unnoticed shadows.
It has been to long that I have read a darker fairy tale that was worth the time it took to read it. I have feeling that this tale, dark and horror filled though it may yet be, shall not be one of those that I shall I have to put away in disgust. Perhaps I may yet have to put it away for fear of the nightmares that haunt me still at nights dark, still, and oppressive, but that is yet to be told by time and time alone. For now, this is too good to judge what it may be as yet.
I have nothing to add to the DP as such except that I agree with Shy in her comments on it. The earl may be a small thing compared to the storm that I feel brewing even now upon the edges of this story, yet the contrast of such a small evil compared to what is greater is too good a thing to be missed. I am sure, one who was once my friend, that you would take advantage of such of situation beautifully.
This note's purposes is not to deliver my weak and idle ideas on the matters of the DP but rather to convey my complements.
I am impressed, Dragoness, and that is no small thing to say of me.
My compliments, such as they are, to your skills. May they improve ever as you write.
Yes indeed I shall watch this tale carefully.
Very carefully.
Sincerly,
The one who has once known as the shadow maiden, the half-shadow, and poor writer of If,
Din
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 11:35 pm Post subject: |
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High praise old friend. I shall strive to measure up to that.
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Fri Aug 01, 2008 8:04 am Post subject: |
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Okay, I've been waiting for more options but since these are the only two that popped up, here's your poll! Get thy votingness on!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2008 8:49 pm Post subject: |
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Any other votes, poll remaining open for only one more day. Get them in!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Phantomfan
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| Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2008 9:06 pm Post subject: |
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Tied it...
_________________
I've been pulled back from oblivion to lurk about the City once more. Though the music of the night always beckons...
Here's some stuff I started writing a long time ago. Orb. Nexus.
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Lilith
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2008 1:48 am Post subject: |
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You've spoken, now I'm writing. Enjoy!
WARNING! Some content may be too vivid for younger readers. Those of you with weak constitutions may want to skip to the end.
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Chapter Three: Awakenings
The Earl greeted her words with shock, off balance for the first time in memory. Then he charged past the guards and the waiting lady. He pounded down the passageways that led to his daughters rooms, unsure of what he was going to find but madly hopeful. He came to a halt in front of her door disheveled and out of breath, taking a moment to gather himself before he pushed it open.
Alwynn rose gracefully from her seat, the elegant gown she wore rustling slightly with her movements. Her hair was coiffed in an intricate style that bespoke long hours of sitting perfectly still. Her vivid green eyes sparkled with wit and intellect and a soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth. A single tendril of mahogany hair escaped the carefully piled coils on her head to artfully frame her face. A face that seemed ten years younger than her true age. Perhaps this lengthened youth was the boon of her twenty years of childishness. If so it was a poor trade, no matter how breathtaking the effect.
She swept into a deep curtsy, every movement as courtly as had ever been and the Earl stood there with damp eyes and a dry mouth. Slowly she rose and walked over to him, standing before him with delicate tears tracing her cheeks. "Father."
He swept her up in a hug, his tears finally falling as he squeezed her tightly. "My darling daughter, my beautiful, beautiful Alwynn. I'll never let anything hurt you again. On my life, my sword, and my honor." He held her at arms length, looking at her as only a proud father could.
All the while one thought blazed brightly in his brain. Whatever the cost, he'd see the Bastards head on a pike.
------------------------------------
Iylamus squealed as his hooves lost purchase on the stony ground and he went down hard, taking Anramun with him. The golden youth barely managed to throw himself clear of the flailing steed, rolling quick as a cat and gaining his feet. His hands shot out adder fast and took up the long polished length of wood that was his only weapon. A slightly long quarter staff, wrapped with scraps of silk where his hands gripped it. His almond eyes glowed slightly as he cast about for his foes, their fetid breath already stinging his nostrils.
Behind him Iylamus scrabbled and thrashed, finally managing to get to his feet. His coat was marred with scrapes and scratches, his mane and tail snarled. The riding blanket torn, muddied, and slightly askew. Anramun knew that the fall must have damaged some of their supplies, but he'd dwell on it later. Right now he had more important things to do. Such as save their hides.
You alright Iyl?
The stallion snorted and snapped his teeth angrily. Oh never better. I've only been made an ass of.
Mist eddied around their feet, the daylight that had held so much promise stunted by a viscous fog that surrounded them like a ravenous predator. Even Iylamus enhanced speed hadn't been enough to get them beyond the reach of the Forest before a strike had been mounted. Now something was coming for them, something that reeked of rot and the unholy union of death and unlife. His human glamors cracked just a fraction as he waited for that which followed them, a glow rising on Anramuns skin.
Suddenly it burst forth, a flickering shadow with no real shape, and his staff was a flash of polished golden wood. It connected with a bone snapping thud and the horror was thrown back, stunned and lying still for inspection. It had once been a man, a farmer if the clothing was any indication. Broad and stocky like most of the people of Uren, he still retained most of the muscles he'd had in life. Well those that hadn't been eaten away.
What lay on the ground before them resembled nothing so much as a half-eaten meal. Chewed bone gleamed whitely, mauled flesh hung in patches along one side of the ribcage, one thigh, and the upper left arm. His face had been ripped away, as if a bladed hand had reached into it and squeezed shut, then tore away all that it retained in it's fist. Shreds of intestine hung from it's torso like rotting cloth and one hip joint was plainly visible.
The only thing that seemed to be holding this shambling horror together were the thin brown vines that, like veins, snaked through the mangled flesh and wrapped the denuded bones in translucent ribbons. They pulsed slightly, with an unlife bestowed by a dark and eldritch power. The thing was not dead but it also had not been alive in some time. With a sickening feeling, Anramun realized what was happening to the corpses of the souls he felt being destroyed. Shock troops.
Even as he tore his gaze away from the one laying on the ground, more sprang from the mist. Shadow fast blurs of movement, Anramun did not try and hit them. He planted his staff and propelled himself backwards out of their aim, landing beside Iylamus. Run Iyl. Get out of the fog and into the light.
The stallion snorted and dug in his hooves, bearing his teeth even as his ears pinned themselves flat to his skull. His flaxen tail lashed the air like a whip of froth and he made a low, vile sounding noise. Anramun thumpped him in ribs and avoided the snap it earned him. See how far it extends, I can hold against them that long.
Sensing his masters plan, Iylamus reared and took flight on fleet hooves. He punched a horse shaped hole in the mist and the fingers of fog wove back together almost as swiftly as he parted them. Anramun kept his eyes trained on the things that swayed feet from him, waiting for their fallen comrade to stand. There were six of them now, the man's whole family. His wife, three small children, and an older man of some relation...his father possibly.
Of them all, the children were the hardest to stare at. Virtually untouched by the ravaging that had befallen the older family members, their chests had been torn open, ribs thrust outward in broken spikes of bone. Their eyes had been torn from their sockets, eyelids cut away so that the dark holes remained. Tendrils of brown crept out of them, creating designs, runes of dark power were they wove in and out of the dessicated flesh of the childrens' cheeks. They all wore cherubic smiles, angelic in their sweetness, and reached for Anramun as if begging for a hug.
They hung back, allowing the other three to shamble forward. The farmer was the worst as far as mauling went, the old man a close second with the whole upper left quadrant of his body stripped to the bone, skeletal left hand twisted into raking claws. The farmer's wife was nude, her lower belly and thighs gone, a seething mass of brown vines wrapping themselves outward from where her womb had once been. Her lower jaw was missing as was the flesh of her throat but her eyes, of them all, were the only ones intact. They stared at him, lidless and unblinking even as her fingers beckoned at him to come closer.
The glamors on him cracked a little further, the beads and small ornaments woven into his long braid each revealing a single glowing rune. The pupils of his eyes changed shape, looking like a four pointed star almost, and his ears lengthened to points. He spun his staff to a ready position, sensing no true life in these beings, shifting his stance into one for combat.
The older three rushed him at once and his staff was a honeyed bar between them, sweeping aside their charge even as he dodged nimbly back. He threw one hand skyward and golden light, like a miniature sun, burst around them. As one, the faces of the three children contorted in pain, their mouths opening in a soundless cry that unleashed an inky mass. Anramun gritted his teeth, hissing a word in the old tongue, and the light held even as his staff shot forward to smash the kneecap of the farmer's wife.
He whirled and danced, the polished haft of wood splintering bone and pulping flesh. Where it touched the brown vines the writhed and shrank back, green shoots appearing amidst them. His power voiced itself in those green, growing things. In the life that appeared to reclaim fertile mulch from rot and ruin. Every blow he struck destroyed more of the horrors' ability to function, planted more new blooms of life.
With a sudden ferocious strike, Anramun drove his staff clear through the body of the farmer's father. He pulled it back, the shaft of the staff clean and glowing with brilliant vitality, watching as emerald ivy erupted from the very pores of the creature. It clawed at it's throat for a moment before collapsing in a heap. Soon enough, only ivy covered bones littered the ground where it had been, the emerald plant full of vigor and life, praising Anramun for allowing it to thrive.
As one the children raised their hands and drew symbols in the air, weaving the mist into abhorrent shapes even as Anramun repeated the process with the farmer and his wife, leaving two more patches of brilliant ivy upon the ground. He whirled to face them, glamours fully broken now, revealing him for the ethereal creature he was. With a glowing staff he struck the runes, sweat running down his face.
His voice rang out, words of power and command, and light surged around him. The mouths of the children opened, their throats bulging as if something were crawling up them, seeking a way out. Anramun took one hand off his staff and reached out with glowing fingertips to touch the nearest rune, knowing he had to break them before this new horror emerged from the abominations that had once been mortal girls and boy.
As his hand met the twisted mist there was a sound, like the tolling of an iron bell, and a concussion that drove him backwards. Hoarfrost shot up his arm to the shoulder, the chill touch of death thwarted. But the rune shards ripped through the three small terrors, striking them and shattering them like glass. The shadows that filled them hissed and bubbled in the light that flowed off Anramun in waves and they pulled themselves back into the safety of the mists.
He rubbed his arm, throwing the frost from it with his warm touch. Placing both hands on the staff once more, he began to spin it. The mist twisted and curled around him, fog tearing like rotten fabric as the wind his staff created stirred it like a hag stirs a cauldron. It was pulled to him, drawn tighter and tighter by the spinning, coalescing into a single sphere at the very center of the vortex. With a soft whisper, Anramun unleashed a binding and allowed his staff to still. He reached behind him, unraveling a short length of his braid, and withdrew a silver ornament.
He held it out to the fog bubble, watching as it flowed into the silver like water into a glass. The silver strained the darkness from it and Anramun watched the black tarnish fall away, dissolving in the full light of the new day. Slowly he returned the ornament to his hair. Slowly he rebuilt his human glamours. Slowly he sank to his knees.
And that was how Iylamus found him some moments later, out cold on the ground, caressed by adoring ivy.
----------------------------
In the nearby town of Shreeven, a woman jerked back from a bowl of water with a pained gasp, dashing it with her flailing hands as she sought to escape the vision within. She recoiled, trembling, to the furthest cushion her tent provided, not caring that she drew the eyes of the other three in the room. She flinched away from the large man that approached her, momentarily forgetting her employers familiar aura in the light of the horrors she had just seen.
"What is it Xxatera? What have you seen?" The man frowned at her, the golden circlet at his brow gleaming slightly in the filtered light.
Slowly she reached up and ran a slender finger across the metal, the sign of his birth. "The Golden Prince lives. The Darkness is awake and stalking him. The Lore of the Thrice-Born has come into fullness." She bit her lip, realizing she made no sense to the human. "Majesty, all the Mortal Kingdoms are in grave danger."
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Where to from here folks? How might His Majesty respond to this? What might it hold for Anramun? Who knows what new horrors might be waiting. You do.
----------------------------
To coin a phrase from a favorite author of mine, and if you don't recognize this shame on you, 'By the pricking in my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.' Hope you liked.
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2008 4:36 am Post subject: |
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Interesting.
I haven't really read any of yours for a while Rai, and I have to say I like the style of this latest piece, esp the last chapter.
Still, my main complain still stands, which is: I really, really wish you'd write something with a hero who is not uber. Though this one was one of the better ones' I own.
I remember your first (on IF, I know you've been at this a while) and the difference is astounding when you compare. This has good atmosphere and I could visiualise the young children 'zombie things' as they lurched for'ad. Nice going!
Keep it up old Dragon. I may not be here so much these days, but I'm watching...
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My Amazon page.
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shy_blu_eyes
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| Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2008 6:10 am Post subject: |
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I'd have to disagree just a little bit C-ren. In the prologue we learned that Anramun's powers are keyed to life, so undead creatures are an enemy to which he is particularly well suited. Also, it appears that these were apparently fairly simple minions, and three of them never got into the fight. Certainly, Anramun showed incredible skill in defeating them (and we expect that since he is something more than human), but from the description of the fight I have my doubts that he would prevail against an equal number of human opponents...
Having said that, I like this chapter. The descriptions of setting and characters are vivid, although I had trouble visualizing some of the action. Still it helps establish or reenforce Anramun's strengths and weaknesses, raises the stakes, and progresses the plot. Once again, I finished reading with a strong desire to see what comes next...
Which brings us to the DP. I think the obvious response for the king is to prepare for the worst. In regards to the story, this could go one of two ways. Either the king will cancel his trip to see the Earl and return to the capital to make plans and preparations. This will free the Earl of his immediate obligations and allow him to focus his efforts on Anramun. Conversly, the king's immediate concern may be to assure the loyalty and preperation of his nobles. In this case, he would proceed in haste, arriving ahead of schedule and departing sooner than expected. This could have unexpected consequences, including possibly making the king more willing to let the Earl "borrow" his seer's power to find Aramun...
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Mon Aug 25, 2008 11:49 pm Post subject: |
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Wow, almost two weeks later and Shy's is still the only suggestion? One more day people before the new poll goes up. One more day?
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Serge Wolf
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| Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 12:56 pm Post subject: |
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| I just caught up with reading the last two chapters and I have to say I'm just as entranced as I was last time. I really can't wait to see what happens to Anramun, though this King also has my eyes... Look forward to chapter 4 Rai^^
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 2:30 pm Post subject: |
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Okay, I realize this has been a long time coming but it took an awful lot of thought. There were good arguments for both the options and it took me forever to choose just one. In the end, I picked the one I did because it added more danger and peril and placed more pressure on the hero. I've also been extremely ill of late so that's been my main focus. Still, Enjoy!
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Chapter Four: Protector
The king stared at Xxatera and she stared back, trying to fathom the thoughts that were going through his head. She studied his face, worn by the weight of his position but strong despite it. His hair, the color of hazelnuts, hung in waves to his broad shoulders, thick streaks of grey running back from the temples and giving a sage look to the leonine mane. His lips were pressed in a stern line as he stroked the short beard that adorned his square jaw, strong fingers deft in their movements.
She smiled slightly. Her liege was no fool. He would make the right choice. She watched him through lowered lashes as he paced the tent. It always made her laugh that the courtiers were as vain as peacocks and fickle as the wind yet the king was sensible and sane. Even now he wore well made, but well used, hunting leathers. Aside from the circlet on his brow, his only concessions to his station in life was the sign of his house blazed into the leather above his heart, his chain of state around his neck, and the massive royal signet on his left hand. His heavy stride thudded like a heartbeat and all were painfully aware when he stopped.
Turning he caught Xxateras gaze again. "What is this Lore Xxatera? You tell me we are in danger and my mind thinks of many possible dangers and responses I can make. But knowing which danger I face allows me to use the best response."
She bit her lip, ear-tips quivering as she thought. "The Lore is not specific and it does not translate well from the High Tongue. But the essence of it is this. There will be born a golden prince to the High Folk. He will be born three times from three separate mothers. His true birth. His renewal. And his final form. And he will stand athwart a darkness from the time of the Ancestors. What that darkness is there are no specifics save that's gaining power is tied to the appearance of the prince. The two are connected. The peril and the hope are likened to being two sides of the same coin...yet the prince is not the darkness so I cannot say. I'm sorry my liege but that is the best I can give."
Her head bowed as she waited out his displeased silence, head snapping up when he finally spoke. "We will continue on. I cannot simply return to the capital and when my Lords demand to know why I have changed my plans, tell them an old High Folk legend has me running scared. Besides, if this is coming to pass, I would rather they saw me in the flesh and know that I am not frightened. And aside from that, my brother would see it as a slight, no matter what I told him."
He stared at the signet ring upon before looking up at her again. "Xxatera, I am not dismissing your fears. In fact, I want you to find this 'golden prince' as you are the only one of us who has seen him in your visions. I want you to keep in touch with Gui. He'll keep me informed of your progress."
She rose slowly before gazing levelly at him. "It may take ages to find this man my liege. You do not have that kind of time." Then she gave a low, courtly bow and turned toward the exit.
"Wait, Xxatera."
She turned and was more than mildly surprised when he handed her the signet, feeling it's weight and warmth in her cupped palms. Her question was plain on her face as she looked from the ring to the king and he nodded to her.
"Let all know that you go in my name and under my protection. And I grant you this, use your powers only if the need is great and the danger dire. Strike down no innocents and seek no profit for yourself. Now go Xxatera. Find me this prince."
"Yes my liege."
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Anramun came awake to the feeling of a tongue running across his face and reached up an ivy shrouded hand to push back Iylamus muzzle. Alright old fool, I'm up.
Old fool, the steed snorted. That's gratitude for you. Well my prince, glad to see you rejoin the land of the living. The equine stepped back to allow Anramun to stand, sighing patiently as the wobbly youth grabbed a double handful of mane for balance.
I was never dead Iyl...although right now I wish I was. Reaching up a shaky hand, he wiped his face and shook his head when his fingertips bore the traces of dried blood. He touched his upper lip again, finding the trails where his nose had bled. He rubbed the blood away and moved along until his chest was against Iyl's saddle. Let's get out of here old friend. The stench of carrion lingers.
It took him a few attempts but, at long last, he gained the saddle and sank into it, riding with all the grace of a sack of oats. Iyl started off at an easy pace, almost nag-like. Combined with his small scratches and mud smeared coat, he looked like a horse bred of poorer stock. His quality disguised by stride and posture more than anything else. And Anramun himself looked more than a little ragged, his long braid trailing behind him, pooling in the hood of his cloak.
He didn't even have the energy to check his belongings in their bags and see what was broken. He simply settled the staff back in it's holders and wrapped his hands in Iyls long mane once again. He soon settled into the rhythm of the equines stride and his head bowed forward as a drowse overtook him.
He woke when Iyl stopped moving, head rising slowly to look around him. What's wrong? Feeling the tremor that ran through the steed, he dismounted ungracefully. He was far from recovered but managed to stand well enough on his own, peering in the same direction as the equine. His keen ears picked out the sounds of something large crashing through the underbrush easily enough and he closed his eyes. "Gods grant me strength."
It burst from the brush and skidded to a halt, giving him the impression of white fur and blue eyes, before it darted behind him. Anramun suddenly felt the odd sensation of something the size of a pony huddling against his calves like a kicked puppy but there was still movement in the brush. Whatever had frightened the creature behind him was still coming forward. And he was thoroughly shocked when the sounds of cursing men reached his keen ears.
Twisting, he spared a glance at the creature behind him, surprise deepening. One of the Hunters Hounds? Afraid of me? It was then that he noticed the barbed iron chain from which hung a fat black stone. A single ruby rune was carved into the rune and Anramun could feel it's sickening effects without even laying a finger on it.
Fearstone. Iylamus snapped his teeth, laying back his ears. Nasty piece of work too. You are going to take it off of him, right?
He looked at the steed, his reply interrupted by the men arriving on the road. Four in all, they ranged in height from level with Anramuns chest, to nearly as tall as he was. The shortest was the eldest, and the fattest, his bald pate glistening with drops of sweat. The tallest was the youngest, his features sanguine, eyes unreadable. The other two looked to be brothers, alike in height and so thin that they turned sideways and all but vanished from view. All four were dressed in mismatched armor. Swatches of chain-mail were intermingled with patches of fur and boiled leather. But however ill-kept their armor might be, their weapons looked well cared for and oft used.
"Oy, fancy pants. Kick the beastie over here and we'll be givin' ye no trubble." The fat man stumped forward and Anramun noted a length of black chain with a smaller dark stone was wrapped around his wrist. The controller of the Fearstone.
"Not s'fast Habith. Look at 'im, 'e looks like 'e might 'ave a right pretty bit o'coin on 'im," one of the brothers said with a sick grin. "We should make 'im pay for all the trubble 'e's causing us. Keepin' us frum our beastie like that."
"Yeah. Brim is right. A bit o'coin for all the trubble." This from the other brother who seemed duller than the first if that was possible.
"Shaddup ye fools!" the fat man roared, chins wobbling. Then he eyed Anramun up and down, keen eyes spying the glimmer of one of the trinkets in Anramuns braid. "Although I'm sure fancy pants wouldna mind parting wit' a bauble or three. What say you Nayl?"
The big man said nothing, cocked his head, studying Anramun, but the fat man seemed to take it as some kind of symbol. "Not being cooperative? Alright, ye brought 'tis on yerself. Weapons boys!" The last two words were spoken loudly and the fat man and two brothers both raised the blades they clenched. Yet the big youth, Nayl, did not move a muscle. He alone might have sensed something odd about the man opposing them.
He moved quickly, slower than usual but still fast enough that his staff seemed to appear in his hands. Iylamus, reared, bringing flashing hooves and the battle cry of a stallion into play. The equine stood near Anramun and any man with sense would know he was war-trained...or appeared to be. With a thin smile and cold amber eyes Anramun awaited the next move.
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And what is the next move, how will the battle begin? How might it end? And what would happen if the Fearstone were to lose control of the Hound?
---------------------------
Alright. Trust me, things will move far more swiftly from here. Events have been set in motion, pieces moved on the board. Hope you liked!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2008 7:39 pm Post subject: |
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I do not think that Anramun would be so eager to get in another fight.
As you wrote earlier, (before he was reborn) killing hurts him.
These are bandits; if he does something flashy and obviously magical, they would probably think that it wouldn't be worth the trouble.
And that way he wouldn't have to kill anybody else.
although it depends on how much energy he has left and how much energy something flashy would take.
maybe he doesn't have the energy.
_________________
When the dead walk, the living run.
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Phantomfan
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| Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2008 7:51 pm Post subject: |
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F5 dmw- he does seem a bit too tired for a fight.
Then again, knocking someone out doesn't seem to hurt him- I'd go for a non-lethal fight.
_________________
I've been pulled back from oblivion to lurk about the City once more. Though the music of the night always beckons...
Here's some stuff I started writing a long time ago. Orb. Nexus.
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RandomMN
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| Posted: Thu Oct 09, 2008 7:58 am Post subject: |
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What a great bit of storytelling you have here! And a great one to read on my return here to IF
I can see Anramun standing firm and going for nonlethal strikes and sweeps. Even three bandits most likely wouldn't be much of a problem for him, low energy or not.
Or possibly something a bit more unconventional and have him simply remove the fearstone from the creature. Since we aren't exactly certain what a fearstone, would this unleash some terrible creature? Would Anramun gain an ally?
Keep up the great work Kalanna!
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zahark
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| Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2008 4:19 am Post subject: |
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mabey he can remove the fear stone and the dog turns on the hunters for being so crule to him.
_________________
And the sun will set for you
The sun will set for you
And the shadow of the day
Will embrace the world in grey
And the sun will set for you ~shadow of the day, linkin park
-------------
I'm not crazy*, my reality is just different from yours.
*most of the time
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 4:37 pm Post subject: |
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*stalks amoung shadows, drops poll in place, fades back into shadows*
Vote...
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 5:10 pm Post subject: |
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first vote on ALL THREE
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The Meaning Of Fear
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| Posted: Wed Oct 15, 2008 10:49 pm Post subject: |
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I can't believe it took me so long to find this! It's really good, Rai. Rare to see you write something so deadly serious as this, but it fits your style.
I missed the DP, but luckily, I caught the poll.
Hopefully "Non-lethal blows" includes crushing their manhoods. Those men REALLY piss me off. And it won't do the world any favors if they had children who turned out to be just as screwed up as they are.
_________________
Cherish all your memories, even the bad ones, for they are what makes you who you are.
Doors to the truth, an SG where a boy is propelled into worlds he is unfamiliar with. He crosses many worlds, and sees many things that force him to throw away his innocence, once, and for all. Fourth Chapter, out for viewing!
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Guest
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| Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2008 2:10 am Post subject: |
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| I can't understand someone keeps on deleting my posts... Anyway I voted.
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Fighterjock
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| Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 3:52 pm Post subject: |
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Ehh, so he's a little off his 'A' game--removing the Fearstone is an unknown quantity with possible detriment, and flashy magics get rumors started--not the ideal thing for a man on the run trying to keep a low profile.
He beats up some rednecks--even if the story DOES get out out, everyone will think the men are just trying to make excuses for having their butts whipped and won't believe them.
Unless he wants to kiss them and make them forget? But I don't care to read that chapter.... *grin*
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tayfinch
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| Posted: Wed Nov 19, 2008 8:58 am Post subject: |
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| Can't get distracted! Not now! Disarm (er... maybe just dissword) them, and move on. It's unlikely they will follow far.
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Gallant
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| Posted: Thu Nov 27, 2008 6:21 am Post subject: |
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Hey Rai, last time I was got into one of your stories was back in the Galleons days. I seemed to be of indisposed near the end of it. What actually happened to anyway?
Sorry for rambling, I love this new story you have here. I wish I could of voted but I'm afraid I would of caused a tie.
Hope to see more soon.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2008 10:23 pm Post subject: |
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Heya Gallant. Galleons is still around, it's over here in skiffy now. And I'm sorry Lils, was moving, had an accident, and havn't been on the comp for a bit.
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Thu Dec 11, 2008 1:34 pm Post subject: |
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Okay, I figured you've waited long enough. Here's your next installment. Enjoy!
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Chapter Five: A Roadside Conflict
Anramun's stance never wavered, his staff held tightly in both hands, the end firmly planted into the ground as he watched all four bandits at the same time. He watched the beads of sweat roll down the fat man, Habith's, face, watch the two brothers shift and fidgit. Watched Nayl, the youth doing the same to Anramun, simply watching.
A twich, one of the brothers raising his blade just a bit, breaking the stalemate as his muscles slowly recieved the signal to step forward from his brain. Before the move was completed, Anramun's staff was in motion like a bar of amber light, sweeping through the air with an odd humming noise. One end hooked the man by the foot, unbalancing him even as it continued upward to slam into his manhood with savage force. Needless to say the man dropped like a weighted sack, sword forgotten as both hands held his injured parts.
He didn't stop there, moving on to the other brother with the smooth motions of a river flowing over rocks. A single step forward, a shift in how he gripped the staff, and he slammed it into the gut of the second brother, following it up with another step forward and another savage change of direction. The but of the staff connected with the back of the man's head and he crumpled like a forgotten doll as Anramun danced back.
Habith looked from the two brothers sprawled in the dirt of the roadway back to where Anramun stood. Sweat poured down his porcine features, his fat jiggling as his spine melted. "You...you're not human..."
"No Habith, he's both more and less than human." The smooth voice belonged to the big youth and Nayl shifted on his feet. "You're him arn't you, Lady Alwynn's bastard. I've heard about you and I thought you were another like me...but I see I was wrong to think that. Because if you're half blooded anything then I'll be damned."
Anramun chuckled, never relaxing his guard as he politely inclined his head toward the big youth. "If you think I'm a changling you'd be incorrect. I honestly was born of Lady Alwynn. But while she is mortal you are correct that I'm not half anything."
Nayl spat in the grass, tossing down his weapons. "Take the Hound and go. I don't want any more to do with you. The longer I stay anywhere near you, the longer I risk encountering that which hunts you. And while I'm strong enough to fear very little in this world, the powers that serch for you my Prince, turn my spine to icy gel."
Habith's mouth hung agape as he stared at Nayl, as if seeing the big youth for the same time. "Ye' coward! I'll deal with this my-" His words were cut off as Anramun delt him a savage blow to the temple. Habith's eyes rolled up into his head and the fat man hit the ground with an almost earth shaking thud.
With all the force he had left, Anramun drove the butt of the staff down against the small dark stone that dangled from Habith's wrist, smiling savagely when it shattered with a pop of ugly violet light. Then, gripping the staff two handed, he leaned against it like a man on his last legs. "You don't have to worry about what's hunting me Nayl. I've delt with the attack for today."
The big man looked at his companions and shook his head. Now that he'd revealed he wasn't entirely human, it was easy to spot the slight features that marked him as other. The lightly pointed ears, tips hidden by his shaggy hair. The almond shaped eyes that glittered the green of new leaves. The calloused hands with fingers to long and nimble to belong to their broad palms. And though his muscles were decidedly human, they were supported by an inhuman skeleton.
"It will follow you, looking for you, and all who have seen you. None will be safe, my Prince." Nayl ran a rough hand through his shaggy brunette locks, massive shoulders rising. "But when it comes we will fight because it's all we can do."
"You will not fight alone. There are many, many, who will aid you." Anramun's golden head slowly raised, eyes locking with that of the half blood. "But you cannot continue on as you have been. Aiding human bandits to capture creatures that do no belong in this world. A Hunter's Hound is a dangerous thing...and Fearstones are abominable. You, of all creatures, should know this."
Nayl could say nothing as he watched Anramun turn to where the Hound huddled, staff held in one hand as the other reached out and gripped the barbed iron chain. Spatters of blood stained the pristine white coat of the Hound as Anramun lifted the chain away, smashing this stone in the same manner as the first. The big man hadn't expected to become a bandit but circumstances had forced him into it.
The change in the Hound when the stone was removed was remarkable. It stood on long, slender legs, shaking it's pure coat as it gazed around with intelligent blue eyes. It's tufted ears flicked flat against it's head when that icy gaze landed on Nayl, but when it looked to Anramun they flicked forward again, rough pink tongue flicking out to caress his cheek.
A voice, her voice, blossomed in his tired brain. As icy as the north wind, as delicate as a snowflake, she spoke to him. I cannot express my gratitude to you. You...you are my saviour. There is no pain anymore, no fear. My pups will not be born into captivity, will not need to know fear, all thanks to your kindness.
Ilyamus snorted, stamping a foot as he evesdropped, no longer able to keep silent. Oh great, just what we need. A breeding Hound. What next? An old woman?
We already have you. One nag is enough Ily. Anramun's thoughts were just banter, tired, but well meant. He chuckled a little as the stallion snorted and swung his rump toward Anramun, clearly saying that he was now ignoring them. With a sigh, Anramun turned his attention back to the Hound. And what is your name if I may be so bold as to ask?
I am Cheskea my lord. Her velvet soft nose brushed his hand as he stood, her shoulder pressing against him as she stood with him. And I would...accompany you. If you would have me.
Anramun didn't quite know what to say other than yes. Lady North Star...how could I refuse you? Of all the Hunters Hounds...how had they captured one of the Great Ladies? Perhaps it was a thing of fate, of destiny. Afterall, Anramun needed all the help he could get and this Hound certainly would make defending himself easier.
He'd just opened his mouth to take leave of Nayl when the big youth cleared his throat and dropped to one knee. "I have brought shame upon myself and my mother's house. I do not ask forgiveness, but merely the chance to work off my guilt. Please, my Prince, allow me to travel with you and yours, to buy back my honor with my blade."
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Alright while this may not seem like much of a choice, it's actually rather important. Does Anramun accept the offer of a bandit, one who won't get along with the Hound that has already joined him. Or does he decline Nayl's offer and see what consequences that action brings? Choice is yours.
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Sorry that it's short, but I promise you a longer chapter next time. Hope you liked!
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"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Thu Dec 11, 2008 4:58 pm Post subject: |
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nice.
I think you should accept.
Anramun just seems like that kinda person.
And isn't that what heroes of legend do?
Gather together great fighters, some who have turned towards evil and make them his followers.
or some'in like that.
I still say go for it.
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The Meaning Of Fear
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| Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2008 4:01 pm Post subject: |
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Do it.
He needs all the help he can get, and there it is, staring him in the face and perfectly willing to work for him. Sure, Nayl's intentions may not be exactly pure, but as long as he's still following him, Anramun could try to convert this rough bandit into a more sociable lad. 
And if he tried to do anything stupid I'm sure Cheskea would eat him down to his marrow.
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Cherish all your memories, even the bad ones, for they are what makes you who you are.
Doors to the truth, an SG where a boy is propelled into worlds he is unfamiliar with. He crosses many worlds, and sees many things that force him to throw away his innocence, once, and for all. Fourth Chapter, out for viewing!
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BlackAmaranth
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| Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2008 5:18 pm Post subject: |
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Yeah, I've got to say accept. Somehow I doubt those Undeads (or whatever you'd call them) are the worst Anramun's going to face. And Nayl's hardly in any position to double-cross anyone...unless, you know, he enjoys getting the snot kicked out of him. Now that I think of it, that'd be fun to see
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2009 12:26 am Post subject: |
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Guess what, poll is up!
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The Meaning Of Fear
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| Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2009 3:42 pm Post subject: |
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Such a complicated set of poll options! 
Current Poll Results:
Yes: 3 votes
No: Nilch! Nothing! HA! In your face, "No"!
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Cherish all your memories, even the bad ones, for they are what makes you who you are.
Doors to the truth, an SG where a boy is propelled into worlds he is unfamiliar with. He crosses many worlds, and sees many things that force him to throw away his innocence, once, and for all. Fourth Chapter, out for viewing!
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Tue Jan 13, 2009 2:07 pm Post subject: |
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" powers that serch for you my Prince"
search
The bandit won't go with the hound that is already going with him? Then he would have to refuse the hounds company? Rather have that then some (ex?)bandit as company.
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Adventures of John Chapter 2. I am working to update chapter 1 before I close poll and write chapter 3.
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Mon Jan 26, 2009 2:31 am Post subject: |
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Please note, most of these are small issues with me, its a good story.
| Quote: | | She'd become seperated from her escort |
separated, a mistake I have made many times and corrected latter. Which helped me spot it.
Since pewter isn't a color persay and gray/dark gray means the same thing but is more familiar with more people I would say gray (or grey) would be a better word to use. I also don't like having emotions or intentions applied to landscape(unless said landscape has a mind). Stormy, I think would be better. You might be even a bit more descriptive then that like "dark gray clouds held promise of even more snow" Or what ever the case might be.
| Quote: | | Her disquiet communicated itself to the white mare she rode. |
Just so you don't feel its all criticism. I liked this line alot. Lots of other lines I like too, like about the winter trees and other descriptions. (if you want I could be more specific about the stuff I like as well, but theres alot of good stuff there, it would likely take too long)
| Quote: | | the stamp of nobility etched into every line |
You mean nobility as in the quality of kindness and honor? Or do you mean nobility as in, born rich with a valued last name? I can sort of picture the first, at least for a face, not for anything else. Can't picture the latter.
- - - Couldn't he out ride the Mejori? Otherwise if they are faster then the horses, how is it she was able to lie on the ground unattacked for a hour? The forest arranged it so?(I assume this is the case, but then if they are so intelligent, how could the forest fool the Mejori till just the right time? This is one intelligent able malevolent forest)
| Quote: | | Their eyes were possessed of an intelligence beyond that of most mortal men |
if your saying that intelligence was reflected in their eyes, I find that a bit hard to imagine. Especially if its the lady that is seeing it. If your just saying they are intelligent, then the intelligence wouldn't really be in their eyes..(but their brains of course) In which case "They were possessed of a intelligence beyond that of most mortal men"
- - - I take it these intelligent creatures wouldn't allow him to defeat the three without killing them? That doesn't seem very intelligent.
| Quote: | | But Fate had other plans...that bitch usually did. |
I think I understand the essense of what your saying here, that life never goes the way you expected or planned. But I hate the concept of "fate", I'm not exactly fond of inanimate things behing humanized, and I absolutely abhor that particular use of the word bitch. Within it is the concept that there is a way women can suck that men can not (unless they have feminine characteristics) Same thing goes for "whore" with the addition of absurd concepts of victorian sexual purity layered in.
- - - Maybe something not truly relevant to the story or perhaps something revealed latter but... Why would the guards have anything against him? He interfere with their hunting or something?
- - - What is "parade rest"?
- - - What is a "sorceers"? How does it differ from a seer, or does it? Also, if thats a possessive, there should be a ' before the s. And it does seem like a possessive, not a plural. Since "one of the kings.." comes before it.
- - - Why did Anramun take so long to fix Alwynn of the damage he caused? Plus now it hurts him that he didn't repair it sooner because the earl now considers his leaving to be the cause of her getting better. I also feel that the earl certainly would have been less cruel to Aramun had he fixed her earlier. It seems clear to me that the worry for his daughter weighed heavily on his mind (which caused him to be more nasty) Also, Alwynn had been in her own mind, she could have helped buffer Alwynn from her fathers cruelty. Its clear she is a kind soul, so he could have trusted her to keep his secret.(in both the sense that she probably would have, and in the sense of compassion and debt)
He owes her for her being the vehicle for his rebirth, to have her mind destroyed for so long, essentially those years of life lost to her, is a cruel repayment.
Also, if the kiss was what took her memories, why is it that he took her memories before deciding to take her memories with his father?
- - - Don't castle/keep draw bridges go down from the front of the castle? With barely any land if any at all between the door and the moot? In which case its hard to imagine a horse would have even enough room to stand, more less even take a short burst of speed to leap the supernatural distance. (Yes I understand its not a regular horse) Plus latter on that same horse falls from poor footing.
- - - Must you remind us so often that his birth mother was not married when she had him/referring to him as bastard? In situations where he might be judged for that, it works I suppose, but when its him, the horse, and the scenery, its entirely unnecessary.
| Quote: | | He whispered a prayer for the small child, lured from his bed by an irresistable pull. But even as he wept, Anramun knew there was nothing he could do. |
You said there was something he could have done earlier when imprisoned in his towery home, if he wasn't virtually imprisoned. Why could he not do anything now? Or at least make the effort. His flight went undetected and would probably remain so for some time, he could spare a little time to make the effort. Plus with the speed of his ride along with his head start they stand not a chance to catch him.
- - - I'd rather you not write in that these foul creatures could damage a actual soul. The body is one thing, but you can not claw or tear a soul.
- - - I really like your great and unique description of vine and ruin powered undead and the way he defeated them by bringing the vines to a true life.
- - - I wonder though what the plan was that the horse went to see the edge of the fog for. Did he trick the horse to get him out of the way so he wouldn't be hurt? Still, what did the horse think the plan was?
| Quote: |
like a hag stirs a cauldron. |
Hag is like bitch and whore, just vile words in my book. Also very unnecessary here, why not "like stirring a cauldron"? I can't think of any special way a old lady would stir a cauldron verses anyone else stirring it.
- - - Why didn't/couldn't he resurrect that undead family to true life afterwards? The damage was too much? Weren't the kids mostly undamaged?
P.S. If this volume of critique is unwelcome, please let me know. Also like I have already stated, it is a very good story, most of these are minor issues to me. Plus a fair amount of this post is not critique as much as inquiry.
Also, I noticed you still haven't answered my rather simple and short question in my previous post. Nor have you fixed that misspelling of the word search.
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Adventures of John Chapter 2. I am working to update chapter 1 before I close poll and write chapter 3.
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Mon Jan 26, 2009 11:40 pm Post subject: |
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"but of the staff "
butt
| Quote: | | We already have you. One nag is enough Ily. Anramun's thoughts were just banter, tired, but well meant. |
His thoughts? Are Anramun and these animals reading each others minds? Or communicating telepathically?
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Adventures of John Chapter 2. I am working to update chapter 1 before I close poll and write chapter 3.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Wed Jan 28, 2009 1:28 am Post subject: |
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Sorry Purp, I havn't actually had time to read the comments before now so allow me to do some explaining.
The hound owes him...she'll follow him until such time as he dismisses her or until the debt is repayed. And since Anramun saved not only her, but her unborn pups, she owes him several times over. That's not to say she's going to enjoy traveling with one of her former captors...but circumstance makes for strange bedfellows.
As for Nayl, he'd rather not travel with the hound but knowing that Cheskea is there is going to keep him on the straight and narrow for fear that Anramun might let the hound 'rebuke' the bandit for him.
Pewter is indeed a color and comes in a crayola box. Blame the crayon. And are you sure that the weather isn't particularly intelligent? Nothing is quite as it seems...
'the stamp of Nobility' is referring to what people would call regal beauty. It's not just how she looks, it's also how she carries herself. And, due to inbreeding and an easy lifestyle, she also looks different from your average pesant. Better skin, better hair, better health, and refined features.
No he couldn't have outridden the Mejori not just because they are faster than horses but because the Forest wouldn't let him. She lay on the ground unattacked because the Forest arranged it. And yes, the Mejori showed up at exactly the right time because this is one very intelligent, very able, very magical malevolent forest. Once inside, you do what it tells you, what it lets you, and what it wants you to do. Otherwise you wander forever until you starve or something kills you.
They say the eye is the window to the soul. There are some people who, when you stare into their eyes, you can tell are extremely slow or dull witted...like a brick. The same is true for the opposite but I may make your suggested re-edit.
I used the harsh word intentionally and in this case Fate is more than just a force of chance in life, she's an actual entity that you will meet later on.
The Guards are wholly loyal to the Earl...the easiest way to curry favor with the Earl is to agree with him. Also Anraumn is seen as very feminine...he's got a braid that reaches to the floor and is very narrow and willowy in ways they are not. Plus while he's skilled with weapons he's failed to impress them in any other manner. They're willing to chalk it up to his 'unnaturalness'.
Parade rest is a military position in which a person stands with their feet spread as far apart as their shoulders, hands resting behind their back with one hand wrapped around the opposite wrist. Chin is elevated, eyes are forward. The American Military term to enter this position would be 'At ease'.
Sorceers are unique to the world of Shatterglass. It is the human tearm for anyone with magical talents and abilities and a touch of 'other' blood in them. The plural term for them is also sorceers...sorta like the plural tearm for moose is moose.
Anramun may have been himself, in full possession of his mental faculties and powers, from his second birth...but his body needed time to mature. Thus he couldn't have used that particular power at any previous time without risking serious damage to himself. Also, the Earl would have grown rather suspicious and would have believed it was Alwynn freeing herself on her own while Anramun was trying to keep her back under the spell.
Also it wasn't his kiss, or anything he did, that caused her childish state. It was instead the doing of Anramun's Father. That was the 'it's best she forget' at the end of the prologue...
Cruel but you need to realize Anramun lost those years as well. Had he not gotten involved in the first place Alwynn would have died and Anramun would have continued to mature in his original form.
There are irregularities. The moat is not a perfect circle and near certain gates there are flat expanses of land that are fortified during times of war. This is due to the fact that the moat is partially made of a river that ran through the lands of Ulren. This was not mentioned yet as it was part of an upcoming chapter and still is...
Yes. Lady Alwynn's Bastard has become his title and he's known by it throught the human lands. Sorta like Prince or Earl.
He still couldn't. His flight was undetected by those in the castle but he was trying to get out of reach of the Forest before it had time to launch an attack. Stopping to aid the child would have placed him fighting a battle he could ill afford and that would most likely have drawn the attention of the Earl and his gaurds.
Purp...what kind of wounds does one soul inflict on another? Souls carry scars just like bodies do and those attacks were out to rend more than flesh.
Thank you, I enjoyed writing it. It's a challenge to come up with unique evil.
Ily is not a normal horse, beyond that I'm not going to say anything further as it would be a major spoiler. And no, Anramun didn't want him injured.
Hags are not just evil old women...there is a creature called a Hag that is an undead, usually a witch returned to life by arcane ritual, that continues to cast spells through the potions she brews. Some seek to attone for crimes during their lives...most do not.
The adults were too damaged and the souls were gone. Plus at that point he was drained from battle.
And yes, he's talking to the animal mentally and while Ily and Cheskea can both mentally reply he understands the languages of the tame beasts when they reply to him.
And no this is not unwelcome at all. I like the challenge of justifying myself and my work, mental fencing. Wished it happened more often.
And of late my computer has been fritzing out and not allowing me to spellcheck. It's also fond of randomly freezing and killing my posts when I'm right in the middle of them. Saving things on word documents also doesn't work...that's how I lost my Nano nine times...kept opening the document and finding it mysteriously blank...*growls at computer*
Hope this puts your mind to ease...actually I hope it spawns new questions. Thanks for taking the time Purp.
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"Music makes you braver."
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Wed Jan 28, 2009 2:00 am Post subject: |
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Not sure what you use for spell check but heres a website that can do it. www.spellcheck.net Of course that won't get all of them. I didn't use it to catch those spelling errors myself (you might consider using it on your reply:p)
You could make the post, so its not lost, then go back over it for spell checking and what not.
| Quote: | | Thus he couldn't have used that particular power at any previous time without risking serious damage to himself. |
Thats some timing for him to reach that level of maturity right then. Stretches belief just a bit, that coincidence.
| Quote: | | Also, the Earl would have grown rather suspicious and would have believed it was Alwynn freeing herself on her own while Anramun was trying to keep her back under the spell. |
I'm not following this logic.
| Quote: | | Also it wasn't his kiss, or anything he did, that caused her childish state. |
Ok, then what was the first kiss forcing stuff in her mouth about? Or would that be telling? And why was it a kiss that was what "gave back what was taken"?
| Quote: | | Had he not gotten involved in the first place Alwynn would have died and Anramun would have continued to mature in his original form. |
Hows that? Or would that also be telling?
Well if he knew anything of what would happen to her if he were to take her memories, then it was short sighted and cruel for him to agree with his father to do that. Harming both of them and his cause in the process.
Bastard might be his title, but that matters not when your riding under the moon with your only companion a dear friend of a horse. There is a earlier example too where its completely uncalled for IMO.
These hags stir in some special way? How are we to know what way that is when you haven't even introduced us to one yet?
You could have said jerk rather then bitch in reference to this fate person. Oh how I hate concepts of fate, humanized or otherwise.
| Quote: | | Purp...what kind of wounds does one soul inflict on another? Souls carry scars just like bodies do and those attacks were out to rend more than flesh. |
The concept of a sole is that of of a greater ID that goes beyond the material, immaterial. You can't touch a soul, short of actually harming it. You would have greater sucess killing mist with a regular sword. At least this is my preferred way of thinking of them. Otherwise its just like another body within a body, like russian dolls. Aside from my other issues concerning this, I find that just absurd.
(any other feedback I might think of will have to wait for another time, got to go for now. I might be able to help you figure out your PC problem)
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The Meaning Of Fear
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| Posted: Thu Jan 29, 2009 12:14 am Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | There are some people who, when you stare into their eyes, you can tell are extremely slow or dull witted...like a brick. |
This worries me. I don't think I should let anyone look into my eyes from now on.
| Quote: | | Thats some timing for him to reach that level of maturity right then. Stretches belief just a bit, that coincidence. |
I felt like saying something ominous and cliche like "there's no such thing as coincidence" upon reading this comment. There's bound to be a bit of coincidence in any story. Also, have you not thought of the possibility that said timing was planned, somehow?
And perhaps you should let up a little on the philosophies and interpretation of descriptions. Everyone sees things in a different way, so some conflict can't be helped, but you know, the chinese have a saying: if you take just one step back, you'll be able to see as far as the sky is wide.
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Cherish all your memories, even the bad ones, for they are what makes you who you are.
Doors to the truth, an SG where a boy is propelled into worlds he is unfamiliar with. He crosses many worlds, and sees many things that force him to throw away his innocence, once, and for all. Fourth Chapter, out for viewing!
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Thu Jan 29, 2009 2:43 am Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | have you not thought of the possibility that said timing was planned, somehow? |
I don't see the bad guys or the good guy or anyone else benefiting from that timing, to be worth such complicated planning.
I appreciate what your saying too, but it seems Kalanna Rai appreciates some of it anyway. But I can try to not analyze to deep maybe.
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Adventures of John Chapter 2. I am working to update chapter 1 before I close poll and write chapter 3.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2009 11:51 pm Post subject: |
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Alright. It's been a long time coming but I'll post it while I have the time. Enjoy!
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Chapter Six: That Which May Come
For a long time Anramun merely stood, weary eyes resting upon the form of Nayl. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me a moment ago Nayl. You wanted nothing to do with what hunted me. Were those not the comments you made?"
Slowly the halfbreed nodded, taking a moment to breath before speaking. "You told me that I will not fight alone, that many will aid me. And I couldn't help but think who will aid you? If you fall so do the rest of us. If a horse and a hound are all that Fate is willing to give you I'm more than willing to thwart the plan and add my sword as best I can. To do the most good to make up for all the ill I've caused. So again my Prince...may I travel with you?"
He looked at Cheskea and Ilyamus, both of whom looked back at Anramun mildly, letting him know it was wholly his choice. He considered for a moment longer before giving an almost boneless nod, too weary to argue further. "Very well...but know this Nayl. Betray us and I'll give you over to Cheskea as a plaything for her pups."
Nayl paled but nodded, rising from his position of fealty as he sheathed his blade in the scabbard that rested on his back. "If you'll but give me a moment to gather my things from the campsite we can be off before the hour is out...unless you would like to rest longer my Prince?"
Anramun heaved a sigh, thumping Ilyamus in the ribs lightly as the steed gave a horsey snicker. "I'm not used to being called by titles Nayl. Call me Anramun, I'm more comfortable with it and it will also attract less suspicion in towns." Never, in either of his lives, had Anramun been keen on being called by any of the titles he'd owned. It might have been who he was...but it had never been WHO he was. And that difference made him more than a figurehead, it made him a person.
A grin broke out on Nayl's face and he chuckled. "Sure...Anramun." With an odd sort of wave that might have been a salute such as the Guard back home would have used, Nayl vanished back into the forest that lined the roads as Anramun sagged back against Ilyamus.
What have I gotten myself into Ily? His mental words were tired as he closed his eyes for a brief moment.
The steed nudged his master gently. I would say a mess of epic preportions. But I'm here, she's here...even this strange turncoat bandit is willing to help you. We have Fate on our side Anramun...don't screw that up.
He cracked an eye open and stared at the steed, shaking his head as Cheskea muffled her mental laughter. Why is it that your advice fails to make me feel any better about this venture?
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Xxatera had not been idle since the king's command had been given. In a very short span of time she had commandeered both fine steed and supplies needed for the beginning of her journey. Clad in in leathers clearly not of human origin, the Sorceer herself clearly human only in the slightest. She drew the eyes of all as she passed, mothers pulling their children aside and making the ward against Evil as she passed. Servant of the King or not, superstition still ran deep, fed by the growing darkness of the time that even the blind could feel.
The darkness was growing, had been growing for as long as Xxatera could remember. Not that she was particularly old in terms of her non-human kin, indeed she was barely past her majority. But in the eyes of a human she would have been nearing the end of her span of years, well past her first century of life.
The steed below her was more than willing to lend her speed as she asked for it, leaning low on the horse's back as it flew through the cobbled streets. Both it, and the cape she wore, had been borrowed from one of the Royal Messengers. People sprang out of the way for the symbol, their animosity evaporating. Everyone knew that urgent dispatches traveled between the King, the Court, and Nobles of the realm on the back of such a steed, in the hands of the cloak wearer.
It was one more useful item she'd managed to procure. She had no intention of using it for more than an excuse for speed...but she was greatful for it. The command not to abuse the her powers or the freedoms she'd been given. The signet was tucked away against her skin, braided onto the same leather thong that held her talismans. Pieces of her true heritage. Items of power. Things of great and special value to any who claimed the Folk for their bloodlines.
No doubt the prince she sought would have them as well. Or would he? Would he even know of his heritage? He must, for her to have felt his power, he must know of it. Xxatera shook the ill thoughts away, she had enough trouble as it was without borrowing more. She patted the neck of the pale horse she road, trying to prevent her own unease from affecting the noble beast. The last thing she needed was for it to spook and throw her. Easy Starspray. That's a good girl.
She hoped the horse would understand. Like most of the mounts the Royal Messengers used, it had kindred amoung the horses of the Folk. No normal horse could have called on such speed, hopefully it possessed more intelligence as well.
Soon enough she slowed their flight as a crossroads loomed, bringing Starspray to a halt and sliding from the mare's back with a wince. Patting one pale golden wither, she marched to the very center of where the four roads met. Reaching under her tunic, she pulled free the thong, talismans catching the light. Selecting one brilliant jewel that glowed with cold fire, she plucked it from the strand and clasped it in her hands.
"By the power of the Star Maiden, I beseech you. Point the way." The words spoken she blew a light breath into her hands and pulled them away, watching as the small bead floated in the air like some tiny soap bubble. As it bobbled and wove in the air like a drunken bee, she mounted on her horse again. Waiting...waiting...watching...the bubble suddenly took off light a shot and Xxatera put her heels against Starspray's ribs, willing the mare to follow.
The chase was on as the glowing bauble shot down the road like a falling star, it's speed a blaze that even a full blooded steed of the Folk would have been hard pressed to match. Muttering an ancient traveling chant as they persued, the Sorceer could only hope that the small light did not outdistance them, or run out of magic, before it's purpose was fulfilled. She could not afford waiting another six new moons for it to recharge.
-----------------------------
Nayl glanced back at the steed behind him, more specifically at the man that sat in the saddle. Anramun, the Golden Prince...now Nayl's Prince. It was an uncommon strange feeling, one the halfblood didn't entirely enjoy. He didn't like having to enter service to the Prince under such circumstances. But it was no one's fault but his own. Nobody had told him that it was either banditry or death. No...he'd become a bandit to pay a debt, a debt unjustly ocurred but owed none the same. He paid his debts, right or wrong.
Anramun's breaking of the Fearstone and freeing of the Hound had also concluded the terms of Nayl's service to that whole bandit profession was officially over. Leaving him free to take up arms for a worthy cause. Reaching a hand into the pouch at his belt, he clutched one of the only things he had left of his mother, the talisman she had given him on the day of his Naming. She'd claimed that, in times of direst need, it would aid him. But it hadn't yet.
Perhaps the need was not dire enough?
The sound of another voice in his head startled him and he turned to find the right eye of the sleeping Prince's mount staring at him. The horse gave a short snort before continuing to speak.
I'm not dull witted and your head isn't packed with wool. And before you ask, yes I was evesdropping. I'll do anything I can to keep him safe and if that means spying on your thoughts then so be it.
"Your honesty astounds me." His voice was dry and the growl of the Hount made Nayl fall silent. "Your fears are unfounded. I have no intention of betraying the Prince. Some causes are worth dying for...those of my former associates wasn't one of them. His..." he didn't feel he needed to finish the sentance.
For a while there was silence, the road stretching between them unbroken. Then the sound of hoofbeats began to echo, faintly at first, but growing ever louder. As the road began to narrow, trees pressing thickly about, there were few places to hide. Nayl glanced back at Anramun, taking in the sleeping form of the Prince, then back toward the direction of the hoofbeats. This is my chance to prove my worth to him.
Ilyamus snorted, curved ears flicking as he shook his noble face. Take it easy kid...it could be nothing...
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So what is approaching? Xxatera? Or could it be something else? Could it be nothing but their imaginations? A trick played upon them? Or is it some elaborate test for Nayl? And a better question...how does he handel the situation? Only you know.
------------------------------
Hope you enjoyed!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2009 2:30 am Post subject: |
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| Kalanna Rai wrote: | | both fine steed |
both a fine steed
| Kalanna Rai wrote: |
the Sorceer herself clearly human only in the slightest. |
This sentence confuses me a little. Is she clearly human, or only slightly human in appearance? I suppose your saying shes clearly human, but shes so close to the line where it might be a little less then clear? Still sounds a little like a oxymoron. Maybe theres a better way to say this.
| Kalanna Rai wrote: | | Patting one pale golden wither |
Withers
"The high part of the back of a horse or similar animal, located between the shoulder blades"
So why is the word "one" in there? Shouldn't it be "patting her horses withers" or something like that? I think a horse only has one withers, the s at the end is part of the word, not a pluralizer.
So this is a pale horse with a golden spot in it's withers? Its hard to imagine that. Maybe you could describe the horse more, or make it simplier, leaving out the golden.
| Kalanna Rai wrote: |
Crossroads... ...center of where the four roads met... |
Are you sure you don't mean where the two roads met? Its unusual for 4 roads to meet in one spot. There usually isn't much point to that, plus it makes it very hard to turn onto a road next to the road your on (unless theres a large open space or circular path where they meet) 4 roads meeting would be 8 directional choices in the center.
| Kalanna Rai wrote: | | took off light a shot |
like a shot
| Kalanna Rai wrote: | | shot down the road like a falling star, |
I suppose this is meant to accentuate that its fast and glowing, but if it took off down the road like a falling star, it would hit the road pretty quick (because it would be falling)
You might also say, blazed/shot along the road, instead of down the road. Up or down might sort of work, but along is more accurate. (plus with the falling star description, makes it sound even more like its going to smash into the road like a shot down plane)
Plus "shot down"can also have the meaning of taking something flying down to the ground by shooting it, or to dismiss a idea or something else someone has to say. (perhaps the road was floating, and she destroyed it with her falling star orb, sending it crashing down to earth? )
accrued? occurred? (I think the former makes more sense)
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Adventures of John Chapter 2. I am working to update chapter 1 before I close poll and write chapter 3.
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DeadManWalking
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| Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2009 5:03 pm Post subject: |
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It's an illusion sound, conjured up by some faithless rogue who wishes to rob the packs of this traveler and his foolish servant, obviously mentally ill (i mean, he's talking to a HORSE) while they face the other direction. That or someone's tries to slit their throats using the above trick.
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When the dead walk, the living run.
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The Meaning Of Fear
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| Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2009 12:54 am Post subject: |
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| Quote: | | I would say a mess of epic preportions. |
Proportions.
Pretty cool chapter. I don't think Xxatera should be able to reach him quite that fast, so I say it's a couple of guards or soldiers who've gone to search out the bandits and put and end to their stealing. There's a number of things Nayl can do at this point, but I can't quite think of a good one right now. I'll edit one in later.
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Cherish all your memories, even the bad ones, for they are what makes you who you are.
Doors to the truth, an SG where a boy is propelled into worlds he is unfamiliar with. He crosses many worlds, and sees many things that force him to throw away his innocence, once, and for all. Fourth Chapter, out for viewing!
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Lilith
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TruePurple
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| Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2009 6:32 am Post subject: |
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I noticed that too Lilith, but from what I remember it was a premonition. So I assumed he was fated to be reborn a third time. Of course that would result in alot of years lost, and I thought things were too urgent for that.
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Adventures of John Chapter 2. I am working to update chapter 1 before I close poll and write chapter 3.
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zahark
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| Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2009 7:27 am Post subject: |
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it is way to soon for Xxatera to find him.
i do like lil's idea though a hunter or guards with the hounds mate.
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And the sun will set for you
The sun will set for you
And the shadow of the day
Will embrace the world in grey
And the sun will set for you ~shadow of the day, linkin park
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I'm not crazy*, my reality is just different from yours.
*most of the time
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2009 10:06 pm Post subject: |
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Yes yes, a poll here too.
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"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Mirel
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| Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 8:23 am Post subject: |
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Ah the loss of a dead story...long berfit of it's author, I suppose, a sad fate for a twisted tale that died before it could fullfill its full and promising destiny. Alas the day, where has the writer gone?!?
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Possibilities are the food of the imgination.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 12:27 am Post subject: |
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*steps out of the shadows and bows* Why the author has gone right here. No promises on how long I'll be around though. Everytime I think I'm done with comp trouble something new happens. I just have to work like a madragon while I can. Here is the latest installment that has been wondered over. Enjoy!
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Chaper Seven: The Hunt
Nayl took a firm grip on the reins of his mount as the sound of hoofbeats grew to a thunderous crescendo. Now other sounds could be heard amidst the heavy falls, the scrabbling of claws on earth, the sound of running hounds. But where was the baying? The belling calls that would signal that this unearthly pack had the scent they followed? Or was the steed right, were they simply passing by, one more strange ocurrance in a time growing ever stranger. The muscles below him flexed as his mount danced nervously, tossing it's heavy head as it shifted nervous hooves.
A chill wind had begun to stir the trees, lashing their tops and working it's way down, blowing fine grit and sand along at a stinging pace. His cheeks were quickly reddened by the debris, by the chill bite as it swirled ever lower to the ground. It howled, screamed, as if fleeing the ever growing sound of a hunt, could it be the wind that was the prey? What could hunt the wind itself? Nayl wasn't sure he wanted to find out but a glance at Ilyamus reassured him that the other steed wasn't inclined to move.
A glance at the Hound told him more. Cheskea was straining at some invisible teather, her promise to Anramun perhaps, ears alert and cocked forward, tail lashing happily behind her. She nosed into the wind, eyes closing as she sucked in great lungfuls, finally tossing back her massive head in a long, low howl that seemed to spark against the heavens. It was a call, a beacon, a beckoning. Come to me, come to me quickly...
Now voices answered her, hounds baying and howling, the joyous sounds of a kennel when the meat is thrown bloody into the pens. Snarls and squeals and cries echoed as a pinpoint of light suddenly exploaded into brilliant being, expanding to encompass the land as far as Nayl could see. And in the light creatures were moving, Hounds like Cheskea. Each was different, glowing with a different hue, a million points of cold light. Stars. The thought came to his head unbidden but true. There were as many of the glowing figures as there were stars in the sky. And in the center of the pack two massive steeds, one golden and eye-searing brilliant, the other pale, shimmering in the reflective glory of it's companion. The Sun. The Moon. What is this?
The Sky Hunt halfblood. Feast your eyes upon a sight no mortal has ever seen and lived to speak of. Ilyamus's words were spoken with quiet respect and he tossed his head in greeting to the pair of celestial steeds, watching them come to a slow halt. Both of the great horses wore tack, armor and barding, saddles and bridles of exquisit workmanship. Neither bore a rider on it's back. How odd, how strange, how perfectly understandable. There were legends of these two steeds, appering to the nobles of the Court, whisking them away to some impossible task. Nayl's head whipped around with worry...had they come to take Anramun?
Two howls, perfect in their harmony, two halves of the same song of joy, rose into the now quiet air. The other Hounds had fallen silent, the movement of the Hunt come to a halt, and the wind fallen still, daring not to breath. Standing near Ilyamus, Cheskea was nose to nose with a massive male, her head moving forward to rest on the top of his neck while his mirrored the motion on hers. Her mate... Nayl's blood went icy. All it would take was one word from the Hound and he would be damned. The Hunt would tear him to shreds and grind him under paw and hoof.
Instead she said nothing, nothing about him anyway. But it was clear she was speaking of Anramun, of the deeds and doings of the dead bandits. Of all she had seen and observed, not from a lofty point in the sky, but with her physical paws touching the earth. Just by watching the reaction of the sea of glowing figures Nayl knew she was talking of the darkness that was spreading across the land. Soft noises rippled through the massive crowd until an echoing mental voice stilled them. Enough. Sandranon, speak to us. Is it thus? Has the Ancient finally reached forth from it's slumber? Speak to us East Wind, tell us why you wear a flesh almost mortal.
It took Nayl a moment to realize it was the Sun horse that had spoken, moving closer and closer until the heat that beat off of it overcame the chill the wind had ground into the halfblood's bones. He looked around for the one the golden stallion addressed. Who was Sandranon?
Tossing his own head, flaxen mane tumbling in a nonexistant breeze, it was Ilyamus that answered. I am here because Nomorow is chained in the Winter Wood, awaiting the return of his once dead master. Because my sisters harry the Stormbringers in the south, and the west. Because, he snorted with a stamp of his hoof I am not afraid of being mortal. If he can do it, so can I. There was no need to ask who 'he' was, even in sleep the light glimmered on Anramun. So what will you do Wethwyre? What say will you and the Hunt have in this?
The Sun stallion exchanged an unreadable look with the horse of the Moon, glanced at the surrounding hounds. But it was the pale Moon steed that spoke in a soft voice. We should not interfear. We are above this world, we look down. If the darkness falls upon it it still does not touch the heavens. We should watch, we should wait...but we will not. You, boy, come here.
The conversation had been going over Nayl's head for so long he was shocked to be spoken to. Fumbling badly, he nearly spilled from the saddle, on shaking legs approaching the pale steed through a crowd of glimmering Hounds. Like a tide they parted from him, sliding smoothly away as if loath to touch him. In the pouch by my saddle you will find a canteen and a broken blade. Take both. Keep the blade, affix it to the haft of a spear and weild it with pride. But the canteen you may not have. Open it and give your Prince a swallow of the drought inside then give it to his keeping. Such as it is dangerous to a halfbreed such as yourself.
He stared into those paitent eyes, milky in a way that should have been blind but, from the way the animal moved, were no such thing. With shaking hands he did as he was bid, nearly cutting his fingers as he grasped the blade and pulled it free. He barely studied it, tucking it into the loop of his belt before pulling free his other hand and the canteen with it. It was a small thing, barely bigger than the palm of his hand, with a cleaver drinking spout stopped with a silver stopper. Quickly he did as he was bade, nearly tripping over Cheskea and her mate, unstoppering it with shaking hands.
Gently he rolled Anramun's head to the side, dribbling a little of the bright liquid within into the slack mouth, waiting for the slow swallow before giving him more. After the second mouthful golden eyes snapped open and the Prince recoiled from him, blinking against the massed light.
To his credit Anramun took the strange sight in stride, looking dazzled for a moment before giving a small smile. Wethwyre, Marsiland, Qyilon, Tremond, and Herskor...I should have expected the royalty of the sky to come hunting their missing lady. I did not expect, however, you'd bring the full Hunt with you.
The big male next to Cheskea looked up at Anramun as the golden Prince dismounted, glancing first to his mate then back. He stepped forward, heavy muscles rippling under his shimmering hide. She says she swore to follow you. Where she goes, I go, whether you would have me or not.[/b] He shot a glance at Nayl, one that could easily be interperated as saying 'your opinion counts not' before returning his unsettling eyes on Anramun.
Golden head bowed, arms sweeping elegantly as Anramun went down on one knee before the amassed Hunt in general and Cheskea's mate in particular. [b]Herskor I am humbled by your offer, I will turn away none who would bind their cause to mine. Your strength is sorely needed and much welcomed lord of the Hunt, perhaps we will find suitable prey before too long.
The massive Hound gave a grin, stepping back smoothly beside his mate, tail twitching in amusment. Golden skin, golden eyes, golden hair, golden tongue. I suspect you could say the most bitter of truths and have them come out coated with honey. Do not abuse such a gift, it is not wise to play with hearts Prince.
A bowed head acknowledged the words and Nayl watched Anramun turn again to the Hunt, watched golden eyes pick out the two steeds. Marsiland, I thank you for this precious gift. Anramun raised his hand and Nayl blinked. Of the small canteen only the silver stopper, curved like a crescent moon, remained. I shall braid it in a place of honor for the Hunt honors me greatly.
Wethwyre pawed the ground, snorting and tossing his brilliant head, pacing forward a quick step. Speaking of gifts Anramun, there is one left that we may give. In the bag on my left side there is an object most precious. It was given to me by Himself, entrusted in my care until such time as it was needed. This is that time and I bid you take it and use it. The Ancestor must be stopped.
For a long moment golden steed and golden man gazed at each other. Then, with liquid movements, Anramun walked to the glowing stallion and reached into the golden bag that hung to the left side of the saddle. His face was a mask of shock as he grasped what was in, his arm slowly pulling forth....
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What is the gift that Anramun draws from the bag? What does it do? How is it going to help our ever expanding band of travelers? Only you can tell, dear reader.
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After a long hiatus I have returned...and I come bringing gifts. I hope you enjoyed!
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Mirel
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| Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 5:32 am Post subject: |
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*smiles slowly* Now that's more like it. As beautiful woven as the others were, if I do say so.
As for the DP, from the sounds of it, the Sun Stead is giving our 'hero', if he can be called that, something from the hunter himself and there are are only one thing that I know of that the hunter carries in legend: The Hunting Horn. A legendary object that will summon the full hunt, even the Hunter himself to ride chaos, death, destruction, and a whirlwind over the world and in that destruction bring forth life....
_________________
Possibilities are the food of the imgination.
~ ~ ~
Some things are too good to be missed: Get Invited.
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Tikanni Corazon
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| Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 6:16 am Post subject: |
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Hi Kalanna Rai,
I've only just joined City of If, and yours is the first story that I have read. And I have to say that I am hooked! I love it!
As for what could be in Wethwyres saddlebag, my first thought was that it could be a sword (with some kind of magical quality of course), or some other kind of weapon. But then it occured to me that Anramun wouldn't really have any real use for it.
So I'll need to think about it a bit longer. 
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Tikanni Corazon
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| Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2009 11:00 am Post subject: |
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Okay,had a little think about it.
I figure that he will not really need any weapons, as he seems perfectly capable of looking after himself anyway. Then I thought of something with a magical power. Could be a possibility, but again, he has magical powers at his disposal already.
So I tried to imagine something that he didn't have but would be very useful. And I came up with A SPY. A creature that could sneak around undetected, small enough to squeeze through tiny spaces, that could fly and swim and could not be hurt or killed. Something that could be called upon whenever desired. In my head when I imagined it, it looked like a mummified animal (sort of like a gargoyle, but that is probably because it sort of fits in with the story),dead looking. But it can be brought to life with an incantation of some sort. As well as being a spy, it could also be used for other things, such as helping them to gain access to a place or an object that they might require.
Anyway, that is what I came up with. Hope everyone doesn't think it's totally crap.
Oh, and the gargoyle thing was just how I saw it in my head. You could make it look however you wanted. Bye. 
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2009 6:20 pm Post subject: |
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Welcome welcome, TC, to Shatterglass.
I like your suggestions, more I like the fact that you took the time to explain your thought processes. It just gives me a richer idea of how to work with your suggestion.
I hope you continue to hang around, I'm sure others will benifit from your ideas in the future.
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Tikanni Corazon
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Location: Running through the plains of my mind, my wolf spirit at my side (but doing so in the UK!).
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| Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 1:51 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks Kalanna Rai,
One does ones best. And don't worry, I plan to stick around.
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.... there is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham....
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, 1887
 
 
  
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