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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!
------------------------------
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!
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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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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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| 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!
----------------------------
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!"
---------------------------------
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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| 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.
--------------------
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!
-----------------------------
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."
-----------------------------
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.
-------------------------------
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.
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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.
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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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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...
_________________
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"Music makes you braver."
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| What is the source of the sound? |
| Illusion sound to cover bandits? |
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25% |
[ 1 ] |
| Guardsmen or soldiers sent to wipe out brigands? |
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| Cheseka's mate? |
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| Total Votes : 4 |
| Who Voted: DeadManWalking, Phantomfan, Sabriel, The Meaning Of Fear |
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