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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 20 2005, 02:22 PM (178 Views) | |
| Shrike | Oct 20 2005, 02:22 PM Post #1 |
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The Spikeadelic One
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Ok, I'm finally writing again, reason being that I have a short story due for English and wish to dazzle my teacher. Check out the imagery in this piece. I couldn't help but brag.
Empty. As a child, growing up where he had, he thought he knew the meaning of the word. This was something entirely new. Whiteness, eddies swirling in the howling wind. That emptiness he understood. It was an emptiness of the mind, all thoughts and fears swept away before the howling gale; it was peace within fury, order within chaos. But this – what lay before him was emptiness of the soul. He chuckled to himself, a rasp of sand on stone that spoke of many hardships, and many to come. If he had not already been resigned to his fate, he certainly was now. The sun was not yet high in the sky, but was already starting to burn. He shaded his bare brow with a hand, staring bleakly out at the barren landscape before him. Is this what I have wrought for myself, he wondered, or is there yet more in these old bones? He was not pessimistic by nature, but could find little hope on the horizon. What lay between him and it, and what likely lay beyond – he could not know for sure, he had never journeyed beyond his mountain home – was a sea of white sand, punctuated by islands of white and tan rock. The wind whipped the sand into swirls of tan grit, ghosts of substance against the deep blue sky. There were many parallels between this place and his old home, and he found this very ironic. He had been standing staring at the crucible of his fate for a long time. Finally he forced himself to return to the rocky hollow where he had spent the previous night, gather up his few remaining possessions, and begin his journey into the Desolation. And I got a nice battle scene for yas too B): A mournful sand hen’s cry floated up from several miles to the southeast. Indra tensed, and a sound like leaves in the wind rose as warriors shifted, some half-rising to look in the direction of the sound. Any Aretch warrior in tune with the land knew that sand hens did not live this far west; and since the Zhadi knew this as well, it could only mean that battle had been joined. Indra motioned sharply for silence and listened. There, so faintly that he almost dismissed it. There was a very distinct sound made when an axe blade chopped into a domed hat but missed the wearer’s head, a sort of hollow whock. Indra was pleased but at the same time a little worried. That the ambush had come to hand-to-hand combat so soon was seldom a good sign. He sighed and closed his eyes, all emotion hidden behind his impassive mask of a face, as he put all his faith into Diu’s battle-sense. Faint cries of rage and agony reached his ears. His warriors shifted and whispered to each other as more sounds of the battle were heard. Indra felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, and looked around sharply to see Lazgi nai Raugolai-khar, a man of lesser authority among the soldiers of Kharna Aiul. “It is not good that it has come to knives and axes so soon,” the man whispered, a worried expression on his round face. “Should we go to their aid?” Indra shook his head. “We do not go until Diu signals for us. I have faith in his fighting prowess; so should you.” “We all do, sir. But even the best of men fall prey to ill luck,” the small man replied, quoting the old Aretch adage. “And only the worst of them go looking for it,” Indra countered. At that moment the shrill keening of a battle-horn rang across the barren hills, rising and falling in a complex series of notes. Enemy in retreat, it said, redeploy anvil to northeast. Hammer in pursuit. Indra leaped to his feet, heart pounding with excitement. “You heard the signal. Redeploy facing northeast, moving up to that ridge yonder. Hurry! We must be in place before the Zhadi get there.” With that, he cinched the belt of his quiver and axe sheath and took off along the long rocky outcrop that he had strung his warriors out along previously. Wordlessly they gathered their weapons and followed him. Indra led them to a high ridge that formed the end of a small narrow canyon that bent sharply to the west about three hundred yards from their position. Indra heard the shouts and clamor of an enemy in confused retreat, and motioned impatiently for his warriors to get in position. As he waited he took out his powerful horn bow and strung it. “Hold your fire until my mark,” he hissed when the last warriors lay prone on the baking rock. “I will stand up and fire the first arrow, and after that you will show no mercy.” They silently nodded assent. The first Zhadi warriors charged around the bend, soaked with sweat and blood. Like a predator, Indra noted the signs of weakness; the chain of command had broken down, and the warriors ran in a confused mass. All cohesion was gone, morale had broken, and every man was out for himself. Fear ran rampant through them; fear of the unstoppable enemy behind them, now turning to despair as they beheld the dead end. Before they could turn back around, Indra stood, nocked an arrow to his bowstring, drew, and fired. With a roar his warriors surged to their feet and sent a volley of winged death down upon the beleaguered Zhadi. Those who had shields cowered beneath them, crying out in fear as their comrades were mercilessly cut down by the rain of steel. The one-sided fight ended swiftly as Diu’s division came roaring around the corner, swinging axes already soaked with gore. Archers sprinted along the lip of the canyon, showering arrows into the confused mass of enemies, and within minutes every Zhadi had fallen beneath the merciless justice of descending blood-soaked iron. Indra led his men down the steep scree to the sandy bloodstained floor, where Diu was directing his division in stripping and dragging the dead into a pile to be burned. Indra walked up to his lieutenant and the two of them gripped each other’s forearms in Aretch greeting. “You have stooped well, O Indomitable Hawk,” Diu said, formally saluting his commander. Tall and solidly built, the Sakharu clansman wore a double-bladed Aretch axe across his back, two smaller axes weighted for throwing on his belt, and a third throwing axe hung easily in his hand, its dark blade splashed with crimson. Dressed plainly despite his high status, in Aretch fashion, Diu’s only mark of rank was his abundance of weapons. As the old Aretch adage went: “An unfamiliar blade is worse than no blade at all.” The soldiers of Kharna Aiul exemplified that wisdom. Check out those adages. I'm having so much fun!Peace.
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| Ignia | Oct 23 2005, 05:28 AM Post #2 |
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Lady of Roman Fire
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You always have the most interesting battle scenes! I especially like the phrase:
However, it didn't quite have the intensity of the last one you posted--the one of Tobias and the religious warriors? I think that one will always be my favorite! Great stuff, Amice! I look forward to your next opus. |
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| Shrike | Oct 23 2005, 06:08 AM Post #3 |
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The Spikeadelic One
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Yay! I was wondering when you were gonna reply to this.
You're right, Tobias still kicks ass, but I was short on time and this was only supposed to be a minor part of the story anyway. I was playing around with how I could get a little hand-to-hand action with Indra, but decided to forget it. And the Aretch battle strategy is way different than Tobias'. It might make Indra look like a bad commander if he had to resort to melee combat so early in the story. Jeez, you guys talk about being LoZ nerds, look at me talk and talk about my own world. I'm gonna stop before I start lecturing on the fine points of Aretch battle philosophy. :lol: Cya round. |
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| Ignia | Oct 24 2005, 08:15 AM Post #4 |
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Lady of Roman Fire
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Haha! Don't worry about that! I love talking about my world, too. I'd think anyone who has made their own dimension would be proud of it! If you weren't, I'd say abandon it. Keep talkin' friend; we're here to listen
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| Kithas | Oct 24 2005, 01:54 PM Post #5 |
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Pillow King
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Yeah, I really liked this entry. Some great stuff Shrike, and your world compels me. It's my kind of place. I like that everyone seems to use axes instead of swords there. Swords are all well and good, but there's just something primal about an axe. Something that calls to the darker parts of the soul. Good job, keep up the excellent writing. |
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| Shrike | Oct 24 2005, 03:15 PM Post #6 |
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The Spikeadelic One
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Wow.
That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about my world. I'm touched. And if you knew me you'd know that doesn't happen very often. *sigh* You guys are fuckin great. I had a depressing day, but now I feel kinda alright. Yay for Spiky. Ok, so the primary reason for this world's existence is to shatter all stereotypes of fantasy as we know them. Stereotype 1, as Kithas has so kindly pointed out: swords are overused like cheap whores in Hong Kong. So the Aretch use almost exclusively axes in mano-a-mano combat (I've always wanted to use that phrase ) Practical reason for this: iron is rare in the desert, and an axe requires less ore and less metalworking than a sword does. Stereotype 2: shadow is always portrayed as evil, when really the true enemy of a mortal is death. Makes sense, huh? Shadow is a neutral element; it could go either way, and since people have chosen to characterize one way, I must go the other. Therefore: Shadow is the champion of mankind, and Death is the villain trying to bring about Armageddon. Stereotype 3: it's always the one single hero who suddenly goes from being a farmer to a master wizard/knight in time to singlehandedly defeat an evil that's been around longer than humankind itself. As if! So I try to tell the story as a movement of the culture as a whole, rather than focus all the divine blessing on some peasant who's never seen a weapon before in his life. So there you have it. |
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| Kithas | Nov 2 2005, 03:32 PM Post #7 |
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Pillow King
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Makes sense to me. Now write me a novel and I'll buy it from you, cause you've got me intrigued. |
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| LoboDiabloLoneWolf | Nov 26 2005, 09:07 PM Post #8 |
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The SHE-Wolf of the Crop-Circles
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Wow, that's so good, I've been dragged right into the desert...I can even feel the sand...urg, I hate sand, it gets everywhere... <_< It's very good, I really like it and I want a copy too and signed, it'll be worth a bundle when it becomes an international hit.
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That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about my world. I'm touched. And if you knew me you'd know that doesn't happen very often.

5:13 AM Jul 12