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NeverNeverGirl
Honored Citizen
Joined: 18 Jun 2007
Topics: 68
Posts: 1216
Location: dreaming away of tomorrows to come
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 Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2008 2:44 pm Post subject: DICTATE - the story thread. |
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For those of you that haven't found their way there yet...
Dictate is a SG started by the orange fuzzy guy that you might see around by the name of Chinaren (ex-mayor and drunkard), the premise is that you are given a part to write (ie climb the tree) then you write a passage describing this action, no more no less. The basis is first come first served - you read the 'Dictate' first you get to write it first (straightaway is best as there are others vying for the same chance!) - to join up in this SG sign up HERE! (you must sign up before you post)...
To catch up with the contributor posting thread read DICTATE!
Blackness.
Sheer walls of lackluster.
There was nothing.
And then, a small crack.
Unclear, unconcious...
The crack widened, and a bilwidering array of images struck.
Veslorca groaned, sitting up and rubbing her neck with her paw. She looked down. Her rippling yellow fur was untarnished. Good. That meant she had survived. She stood wearily, trembling slightly. She sniffed the air, wondering where she was.
Veslorca ran her hands through her long purple hair, she had laughed at the custom her people had of sporting long hair but it had been her saviour and now she was grateful.
She rose to her feet, her humanoid body with its athletic build ached with the pain of the fall. Turning in a circle she looked around and wondered where she was.
A stabbing pain in her leg caused her to crumple to the ground again and, as she rubbed her calf, she ruminated on her position.
How in the name of the Holy Belch Father did i get here?
She flicked the purple hair out of her green eyes, sniffing the air. The stench of carrion made her wrinkle her nose in distaste while her eyes widened at the sight of the mounds of dead. A cluster of standards stirred in the distance, flickering light at their bases.
A glint caught her eye in the waning light and she turned her head to study the source. A sword, blade buried deep in a mound of the slain, stood lone sentinal. The glint had been the last rays of the day striking off the blue pommel stone.
Deciding to investigate the further Veslorca limped up the pile of corpses, covering her nose to lessen the stench. The sword was a weapon, it could be used as a defense.
She scanned the battle area warily, then reached toward the sword.
The hilt was the darkest black, and the blade the color of stars. As she withdrew it from the pile, she gasped. There were runic writings on the crossbar, and they now glimmered hungrily. This was not a sword of her people, this was one of her foes! But try as she might, she could not loosen her grip...
Veslorca struggled for several moments to rid herself of the sword yet it was stuck fast.
Unbidden, a dull ache crept into her hand. It was a heavy sword, trying to shake it free of her grasp had proven only to weaken her more, and she now panted with the exertion. Beneath fingers, white from the strain of gripping so hard, the runes glowed ever more brightly, dancing alive through the metal and casting bizarre shadows across her fur. She had to get rid of the evil thing!
Casting her eyes around the disgusting mound she found what she sought. A corpse, unrecognisable with its grotesque injuries, was wedged under a heavy piece of timber. Gritting her teeth she closed her eyes and plunged the sword into it, right up to the hilt.
Using the corpse and the wood like a lever, she pushed down and away from her paw, praying she'd lose her grip. It felt like she was ripping her fingers off, twisting the bones far beyond what they should have been able to withstand.
Nothing.
She pulled the sword back out of the corpse, and exhausted sank wearily to the ground, staring at it in disgust. She glared sullenly at it, mumbling a curse.
"I've got to find someone who can get this odious thing off me."
She looked around her but saw only the wreckage of combat, corpses and broken timbers jumbled like some irate child had snapped his toys in a fit. She vaugely remembered that they were on the boarder somewhere, though for the life of her she couldn't remember the name of the town.
She needed to get her bearings and to do that she'd need to get to higher ground. Unfortunately, the piles of corpses were the high ground.
Gritting her teeth and ignoring the pain in her calf, she began to climb the highest pile of carnage she could find. Here and there she stifled sobs as a familiar face was glimpsed through the remains. Reaching the grisley pinnacle at last she raised a paw to sheild her eyes from the glare of the last shard of the sun. A vista of destruction spread out around her.
Automatically her eyes sought out the landmarks she knew she should be able to see, the far off pinnacles of the mountains, with their blue grey depths smudged the Northern skyline and her eyes moved ever onwards seeking familiarity.
The thick smoke from the ruins of the outpost summoned her sight, the burnt out shells of the long conical spires that used to house the Royal Infantry stabbed upwards into the sky, blackened husks of what they once were. Their standards, partially burnt waved feebly in the little breeze that there was. She could barely make out the sigil of the royal family (a grey sword and yellow star emblazoned on a field of crimson) from this distance. Her brain automatically figured out its distance, her tacticians mind taking over - half a mile, give or take.
Pivoting south she sought out the town of Gabardine, once picturesque with its small dome shape buildings and cobbled streets filled with children playing and people on their way into the markets. The very same streets, she knew, were now lined with the corspes of the very same and she choked back a sob letting the hardened warrior in her take over.
The white picket fences now bore the severed heads of the Yurks, their canine features with protruding black eyes leering ever onwards, a grim reminder of this small victory. Where once there had been the miriade flowers of spring there was now the broken bodies of children.
Across the vast and rocky orange terrain to the West, amongst the twisted and gnarled black trees which streched with all arms upwards towards the green sky and indigo sun, the forest of Forlorn beckoned to her.
What little was left of its depths after the ravaging of war were dense and pressed together tightly, the shadows beckoned to her offering respite from the cruel heat of the sun. Making her way down the pile of corpses, slipping and sliding on the entrails of bodies she made her way forwards. The carrion feeders had already moved in and they watched her disdainfully, as she stood hesitant as to where to go.
The sword in her hand was a heavy reminder, and the landscape before her echoed its sentiments, of the price her people had paid.
Veslorca climbed slowly down from her morbid perch, contemplating a plan of action. The outpost was her best bet, ruined as it was, there was a chance she might find survivors from the Royal Infantry. Failing that, at least there may be some supplies yet unburned.
As she wound her way amidst the corpses on the killing field she became acutely aware of just how far a half mile is to someone with a wounded leg. The fatigue of battle was also catching up to her, and the weight of the accursed sword seemed to grow with each step. She took to dragging it behind her at first, banging it into rocks out of spite. Then she had a better idea.
"Enemy you may be," She growled at the sword, "but I'll make you serve me nonetheless."
She had to twist one arm awkwardly, but putting one hand upon the other she used the sword as a crutch. Bolstered more by her mental victory than by the physical support, she picked up her pace and set her sights on the burning standards of the royal family.
Veslorca approached the burning standards with haste as she spotted something moving near the large pile of cadavers that was not yet beginning to smell, entrails and blood spilling out onto the ground.
She got a look of what was moving as it lifted it's head and shook back a blood-rich body part into it's great maw and swallowed noisily; she surmised a spleen in the part of her head that wasn't paralyzed by fear.
The massive fanged mouth was all that existed as a head. There were no eyes, no nose, no ears. Only the mouth, filled with bone-needles. The body was equally featureless and equally large, a long thick trunk extending back for at least ten yards.
Veslorca remained rooted in place for a few long moments as she watched the feasting monster with disgust. She had never seen such a worm before. It was certainly nothing native to the region. Though she disliked the idea of leaving the beast to feast on the fallen soldiers that littered the battlefield she was also acutely aware that in her current battered state she would stand little chance against such a creature.
Luckily for her the worm still seemed intent upon it’s current meal, and she hoped that the bodies along with the monster's apparent lack of eyes and ears might allow her to slip by without being noticed. Still wary and assuming the thing had to have some ability to detect it’s surroundings, Veslorca decided to give the creature a wide berth as she moved off to try and sneak her way past undetected.
With a pained limp, Velorsca and her makeshift cane progressed around the behemoth. Every flick of its massive body caused her to flinch in terror, as the scaly skin came closer, and closer.
Finally, she stopped, and looked around. The beast had encircled her. There was no way, in her condition, to step out without brushing the skin. She looked back at the maw. It was now circling out, and poised itself, waiting for anything foolish enough to try to escape from the loop.
So this was how the beast hunted. It was a choice between starving in this small area or being ripped to shreds by the array of bone-needles. Velorsca, weary and faint, sat down. She knew better then to try to fight. She would... wait it out. It was... so simple...
Unconscious, she let her head thud to the ground. Overhead, unseeing, the beast waited, a rock...
And sleeping she dreamed...
She felt something cold on her nose; Velorsca blink a few times and realized she was in a giant pile of snow and the clouds were dropping more by the minute. She couldn't see very far as it seemed to be night-time. She heard a crunch coming from above her and bent her head backwards to see what the source of the noise was.
What happens next? Its up to YOU! get onboard...
DICTATE!
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