The SotA Community First Series Submission Thread

Discussion in 'The Library' started by Vyrin, Jun 10, 2015.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. Vyrin

    Vyrin Avatar

    Messages:
    2,956
    Likes Received:
    7,620
    Trophy Points:
    153
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Minnesota, USA
    SUBMISSION THREAD ONLY!

    Read the discussion of the The SotA Community First Series first please:

    https://www.shroudoftheavatar.com/f...the-sota-community-first-series-in-r19.29890/

    Remember the guidelines, everyone should only post once in this thread. This will be your writing submission which will be a volume in the series. Do not post comments or suggestions here, do that in the discussion thread - here again.

    All submissions in this thread at the end of day CST on June 24 will become a volume in the series. You remain the publisher of this work once R19 goes live. This is not a contest, but a community-run book publishing event.

    Let's see what the community can do! Encourage everyone to participate!
     
  2. Themo Lock

    Themo Lock Avatar

    Messages:
    4,891
    Likes Received:
    17,639
    Trophy Points:
    165
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Australia
    Don't lick the Moon Tower

    Strolling through Owls Head town alone and late at night,
    no questing left unfinished and no rogues around to fight,
    I came upon a Moon Tower that glowed unearthly blue,
    intrigued and slightly drunk i set down my mug of brew.

    My elders had forbade me to approach the tower since i was very young,
    yet without a first or second thought... i probed it with my tongue,
    demons surged inside me! tearing at my very core,
    my bowels released, i screamed aloud and tumbled to the floor.

    I awoke some hours later to a guards boot and look of disgust,
    my ears were bleeding, my briefs were soiled... bathing was a must,
    a mental note was made that day to act only after i think,
    and don't pass out in public or some jerk will steal your drink.
     
    Acred, Amber Raine, Gaelis and 14 others like this.
  3. Womby

    Womby Avatar

    Messages:
    3,299
    Likes Received:
    12,165
    Trophy Points:
    153
    Location:
    South Australia
    Arachnophilia

    The battle had ended
    and that's when I spied her -
    surrounded by dead,
    a magnificent spider.

    There we were, the spider and I.
    Facing each other. Eye to eye.
    Corpses of people and spiders all round...
    all but us dead, and nary a sound.

    As we studied each other with cautious respect
    I lowered my weapon, for I could detect
    a sad, lonely tear in one of her eyes -
    and what happened next came as quite a surprise.

    She lifted a leg, and placed it on me
    then beckoned I follow her under a tree.
    It was there we discovered a passion so great
    that the spider and I decided to mate.

    Our 500 children now wander the land -
    a sight so inspiring, moving and grand.
    Some have two legs, and others have eight
    but all think the taste of humans is great.
     
    Acred, Amber Raine, Gaelis and 16 others like this.
  4. Fionwyn Wyldemane

    Fionwyn Wyldemane Avatar

    Messages:
    1,841
    Likes Received:
    6,079
    Trophy Points:
    125
    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    Chicago, IL
    Maeremayde

    In olden tymes and days of yore,
    Wen men first travelled far from shore,
    ‘Tis told a mayde birthed from the rift,
    Wept o’er those drowned by storm and drift.

    ‘Twas said that bry’ny were her tears
    So salt the sea grew o’er the years.
    And ev’ry saylor, saynt or knave,
    She tended in theyr wa’try grave.

    Alone she swam from place to place,
    Collecting dead of ev’ry race.
    To mourn them in the darking deep,
    And for all tyme, theyr bones to keep.

    But here her story endeth not,
    Tho much is lost and much forgot.
    There came a day when she espyed,
    A drifting man who had not dyed.

    He stubborn clung to lyffe and wood,
    Where others fayled, he had withstood.
    Then as she watched him floating there,
    She heard a whispered, simple prayer.

    And something ‘bout that humble plea,
    Upheld him ‘pon the vasty sea.
    When he awoke, ‘twas on a shore,
    The mayde? Well she cryed nevermore.

    Some storyes tell she left the blue,
    To carve out rivers sweet and new.
    Still others clayme she swam away,
    Her syren song heard to this day.

    The tales of Maeremayde do abound,
    And no one knows where truth be found.
    My hope? I’d lyke to think she strayed
    Upon that shore and with him stayed.

    And wen her heart yearned for the sea,
    His werld he left to with her be.
    Now ev’ry saylor, saynt or knave,
    They tend in lyffe or wa’try grave.
     
    Acred, Amber Raine, Gaelis and 13 others like this.
  5. Duke Gréagóir

    Duke Gréagóir Legend of the Hearth

    Messages:
    5,676
    Likes Received:
    11,810
    Trophy Points:
    165
    Location:
    Dara Brae
    A Story of “Beauty in the Underworld”

    As told by Greagoir the Bard

    We start in a small village outside the capital city In Lord British’s realm. in this village is a girl who loves to play with her pet dog and neighbor's cat. The village is not too important as many nobles consider it too small for them to place their residence. Many nice small homes exist and one of them belongs to a family who has not realized that their little girl will soon face a scary and dark journey.

    Keira is playing with her dog Princess when a rumble is heard across the land. Keira and Princess are both scared and rush into the house. Keira checks the house for her parents and does not find them. She mutters to herself out loud, “Hmm, they must be tending to the fields.” “Let's go Princess”, says Keira to her faithful dog and rushes to the fields. It is getting darker and darker quickly as Keira and Princess run to find Keira’s parents. “This is odd Princess”, Keira mutters while gasping for breath over the bumpy terrain. Keira thinks, “We must get to them sooner”. So she turns towards the stables. In her way is a wild brown mare that is startled and starts to nervously buck upwards as Keira approaches. “Whoa”, Keira says while Princess cowers behind her master.

    Keira is no normal girl, she has an uncanny connection to animals and starts to calm the wild mare with soothing words, “It is ok. We can travel the world together. Good. Will you be my friend?” These words Keira has heard many times when she is playing at the stables with her dog, Princess. After a few tries the wild mare is calm and is happy to assist Keira with getting to the fields quickly. Keira grabs Princess and jumps on the mare’s back.

    This village girl is feeling happy, as her new mare is galloping closer and closer to the place where her parents are when another large rumble is heard for many fields. Startled, Keira and her companions stop unbeknownst to them the ground gave away at that very instant. Falling and falling into the darkness Keira went. It seemed like they fell forever tumbling over and over and over again. Keira’s mouth tasted like dirt and dust as the darkness covered her descent. Crash! Keira landed against the bottom of the darkness. Her body hurt all over as she lay scared and the feeling of alone embraced her. The horse rustled and made a noise. Keira thought to herself, “I must see if Princess and the mare were ok.” Keira called out for her faithful companion Princess but no sound returned to her. Afraid Keira remembered in her pouch were some flint and steel with a little bit of floss. Keira quickly made a little fire and surveyed the surrounding area. Princess was not to be found. “Maybe Princess jumped away from the rumble and is still on the surface?” Keira hoped to herself. “I must see where I am”.

    Slowly Keira approached the mare and reassured both of them that everything would be ok with a soft and smooth stroke on the mare’s head. Keira knew that they should start to move in the darkness hoping to find light. Thoughts of the Otherworld kept crossing Keira’s mind that she quickly dismissed as not to scare herself more than what she was already. Slowly both Keira and the mare moved connected in the dark like a web between a spider and an attached leaf. Against the dark and moldy smelling wall they both started to move.

    After what seemed an eternity Keira saw light in the distance that echoed that they were in fact underground. “Is this the land of the dead?” Keira mumbled to her mare companion. The mare shorted in a frantic short like he understood Keira. This was not a normal bond between the mare and Keira; it was a bond of friends, of companions who journey to the end finding adventure and companionship. In an instant the light was gone. Keira stopped as she heard loud snorts and dirt being ruffled like a hot knife through butter. “Oh Oh” Keira thought as she trembled as fear overwhelmed her. The brown mare ran ahead away from Keira without being told.

    Keira followed at a good four horse pace behind until light once again appeared. Fire bristled through the cavern ahead illuminating like hair standing on the skin. Smartly the brown mare returned to Keira’s side making many noises that echoed down the cavern. “This is not good” Keira thought and stood next to the mare holding on to the back part. The illuminating fire was getting more distant and distant now so Keira followed, as it was the only source of normality in the darkness. Keira know knew that she was not dead in the Otherworld but underneath the land she called home.

    It was straining her trying to keep up with the light in the distance as it moved further away from Keira. Keira dared not to run as to not alert what ever it was making the light down the cavern from her. Thoughts of Princess her dog entered her mind over and over as she worried how Princess was. “I must not be distracted and concentrate on the task at hand”, Keira reminded herself. If she could mount the brown mare it would take less time but the cavern was too small to be horseback. Further and further the illumination kept up until a different lightness entered the cavern up ahead. “Maybe it is outside?” Keira thought which hasted her pace. The artificial light did not come back as she ventured toward the mouth of the cavern.

    Careful Keira looked out and realized this was not the outside light she was craving for. It was a cavern with burning bodies, human bodies set flame. Looking beyond the opening Keira saw small lizard a little bit larger than her dog, Princess. “That small lizard with wings did that?” Keira thought as her nerves raced. Suddenly Keira realized the small lizard with wings was a baby dragon, a drake in fact. She had only heard stories of drakes and their larger parents ... dragons. If there is a baby there must be a mommy looming around. Keira looked and looked while her new brown mare had different ideas. The brown mare bolted across the room into another corridor up ahead. Keira pressed towards the drake slowly and quietly. How hard would it to be calm a drake?

    Keira approached the drake who noticed her and started snapping in her direction. Keira darted back as flame emerged towards her. Keira cowered into a ball confused at her thoughts betrayed her. “Wait”, Keira thought as she lunged towards the drake, “I will have to show this drake who is boss.” Keira started to kick and punch the drake who was suddenly surprised at her actions as pain started to be felt across his snout and body. Keira did this before calmly showing the drake that pain and misery could vanish as her calm soothing words could bring him pleasure. Confused the drake snapped at the girl with not very good aim as his eye hurt when he blinked. The drake did not like the new feeling and with a few more blows against his body the calm soothing words from this girl started to make sense. The drake cried out looking for his mother, aide did not come. Louder the drake cried for his mother, aide did not come. Fear started to overcome the drake, stronger and stronger fear.

    Keira did what she needed to do repeating, “We can travel the world together. I have always wanted a pet like you. Good…” over and over to the small lizard with wings. Yea, that sounded nice the drake thought. Another mama! Slowly the drake stopped snapping at the new entity in his life and started to coo at her. Keira giggled as the drake accepted his new role in the world, err underworld. Keira was the accepted master of the drake as he followed Keira around.

    Keira thought to herself that the baby dragon took a lot longer than the brown mare to befriend. She remembered how short it took for the stable masters to befriend horses once they were proficient at it. This was a real task to tame a baby dragon. Keira felt pride in knowing that she now had 2 more friends in her life beyond Princess, her dog. Keira started to worry about her parents unknowing if they were safe. Keira followed the path the brown mare took as she was thinking if he smelled the outside. Keira found a torch on the ground left by one of the burning human corpses. Once lit the torch provided amble light to subside fear of the darkness.

    After what seemed like many moons Keira found a startling discovery. A river illuminated with some sort of eerie blue light. “Wow” Keira thought. Suddenly next to the river is Mama dragon! Wait, mama dragon was eating while lying down. Mama dragon’s back was towards Keira as Keira was approaching the end of the cavern. Keira was confused on what to do next. Suddenly the mama dragon smelled Keira and slowly turned around. My brown mare, Keira’s thoughts entered her mind erasing the notion of the danger that suddenly should of overwhelmed Keira. “How could you?” Keira screamed at the larger dragon once Keira saw the horror that the large dragon was feasting on her brown mare. Call it stupid that Keira did not run, some may call it being brave. Keira’s thoughts were not firing inside of her head as they should. Dead horse or large dragon? What takes precedence?

    In the moment it was the horror of seeing the dead horse before her across the room. As Keira’s emotions start to subside and clear thinking entered her brain. Keira focused on the large dragon only to see that it was opening its mouth as taking a large breath. The drake, mama dragon’s baby, rushed to place itself in between his secondary mama and his primary mama. Surprised the large dragon stopped and shouted like dragons do at the baby dragon. Surprised, the drake shouted back in dragon speaks as to say, “This one is ok. She can help us.”

    Surprised the large dragon started to move towards her baby and the humanoid but was met with a large pain as her side was already split open from a previous fight. Mama dragon stopped and cried in pain. Both Keira and the drake rushed towards the large dragon to see what made her stop. Keira kept her distance, as she knew a small girl would be an appetizer for a large dragon. Both the baby dragon and the mama dragon cried knowing that the large dragon did not have long yet to live.

    Keira waited until the drake’s mama fell to eternal slumber in the Otherworld away from the Underworld she called home. Keira kissed the head of the drake in appreciation of defending her and for the sorrow the baby dragon felt for losing his primary mother. Keira’s emotions overwhelmed her as she thought about losing her parents as to feel what the baby dragon was feeling. A tear fell from Keira’s eye onto the snout of the drake and they mourned together.
    Keira and her new friend did make it out of the underworld together. That is another story my friend. Take up another ale and I can tell you the rest.
     
    Acred, Amber Raine, Gaelis and 13 others like this.
  6. enderandrew

    enderandrew Legend of the Hearth

    Messages:
    7,359
    Likes Received:
    15,646
    Trophy Points:
    165
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Omaha, NE
  7. Raven Swiftbow

    Raven Swiftbow Bug Hunter

    Messages:
    1,152
    Likes Received:
    2,327
    Trophy Points:
    125
    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    Louisiana
    Raven’s Story

    Raven looked nervously at her brother, Camriel. Her older brother was calmly negotiating their right to remain where they had set their camp with the farmer whose land they had camped on. The farmer frowned. He did not want to hear that war was coming to his small farm.

    “The war might not come this way,” Camriel said. “We simply know that it lies to the east. We will not tarry here long – just a day or two as we repack our wagons.”

    Still frowning, the farmer replied, “You’ve already damaged the crops you’ve trampled.”

    Camriel nodded. “And for that, I apologize, and I shall compensate you.” Camriel reached into the bag which hung off of the side of the largest wagon. He handed the farmer a few coins.

    “I thank thee!” the farmer replied, astonished to have received something from the nobleman.

    “But you need more,” Camriel replied. He then climbed up into the wagon and began opening trunks.

    Raven smiled. She knew what he was getting.

    Camriel soon emerged with a longbow and quiver in hand. As he handed them to the farmer he explained, “This bow is not of the best quality. But it is still a good, sturdy bow. I will give you these arrows for it, but caution you – if even one of these arrows lands on the king’s lands, you will regret it!”

    The farmer nodded quickly, “Thank you!” he replied. “I-I understand. There is no need to trespass on the king’s land here,” he gestured to his fields. “There are many rabbits here, and they eat the crops – I will use this to save my crops and put meat in our stew!”

    “Was it wise to leave him a bow?” Raven asked after the satisfied farmer left them.

    “It will be okay,” Camriel replied. “I think he will make good use of it and I didn’t care for the quality of that one – it didn’t deserve my craftsman’s mark.”

    The next morning, they carefully cleaned the campsite before leaving. They did it to seal their goodwill with the farmer, but also to do as much as possible to cover that they had passed this way. Their journey had begun in the town of Eastmarch. Raven still had nightmares about the afternoon the Obsidian mage had knocked on the door of their home. . . .

    * * *
    “Y-yes? May I help you?” Raven had asked when she had opened the door.

    The mage looked her up and down as though assessing a cut of meat in the market.

    “Tell your father the Obsidian Order needs him.”

    “I beg your pardon?” she asked as thoughts swirled through her head.

    “You heard me! Go get him!” the mage commanded.

    She caught her breath and ran upstairs, relieved that the mage did not follow her.

    “Papa! Papa!” she called, trying to keep her voice low, so the mage would not hear her fear.

    “What’s wrong, darlin’?” her father said, looking up from the book he was reading.

    “Th-there’s an Obsidian mage downstairs! He said to tell you the Obsidian Order needs you!”

    Her father sighed and carefully closed the book. “I was afraid this would happen,” he said. “The Obsidians need bows for their ranks and this is the downside to being well known for making bows,” he said with a wry smile. “You look like a deer that’s been spooked by a hunter,” he said to his dark haired daughter. “We will survive this, child.” He stroked her hair.

    He rose from the chair, his age showing in his slow movements. But his next words were steady and strong.

    “I will go with the Obsidian. What choice do I have? But you must fetch Camriel immediately. Pack all that you can and leave tonight. Go west, at least to Brittany if not further. Camriel’s skill at making bows almost matches mine now. We have no reason to give the Obsidians two bowyers! And I’m an old man now,” he said, smiling. “It takes me some time to make a bow, and they cannot be mass produced,” he said with a wink.

    “But what if Camriel doesn’t want to go?” Raven asked.

    “He will,” her father replied. “Tell him that the Swiftbow legacy now lies with him. He will understand. And you . . .,” he hugged his daughter, “I don’t worry much about you. You know the way of the woods and fields, streams and mountains better than I ever did. Your job will be to take care of your brother!”

    * * *

    Raven wiped a tear away at the recent memories.

    “Are you okay?” Camriel asked her.

    “Sure,” she said, forcing a smile. “I think I’m allergic to the rye that farmer was growing. . . .”

    [I could go further, but thought this might be a good place to stop. It's 795 words.]
     
  8. Sophi

    Sophi Avatar

    Messages:
    918
    Likes Received:
    2,736
    Trophy Points:
    93
    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    Sol III
    Refugees of Midras

    Many people fled the fall of ancient Midras, scattering to the four corners of our world. Many were hunted down and slaughtered by the Obsidians, many fell to despair, many to disease or exposure. Some few managed to survive and even prosper, but all felt the piercing loss of their beloved city, all mourned their lost culture for they knew that its like would never be seen again in their world.

    Of such a group of refugees is my tale made.
    Fleeing south along the Shimano river a group of three temple priestesses, their servants and their guardians cast their hope ahead into the Brightbone mountains, led by one of the guardians named Ayliss who had been born in a small village in that region. Fearing pursuit by their enemies in the Obsidian order these refugees took care to avoid the more populous settlements, traveling often by night. Thus they went for weeks, always keeping the river Shimano in sight until they came to its headwaters in the foothills of the Brightbone mountains. Ranging up into the foothills they found Ayliss’s tiny home village. The folk there still honored the ancient goddess, and they agreed to keep the refugees’ identities secret. And so the refugees settled in, knowing that all their past lives were as nothing. They changed their names to the names of simple farmer-folk, and lived out their days in peaceful obscurity far from their enemies and the wars of that time.

    In the years that followed the skills the refugees brought with them in the sciences, in healing, in magic, and in fighting were taught to their children and then to their children’s children and so on, down through the many years. The focus of the teachings changed over time as the needs of every-day farming and crafting outweighed the need for more esoteric teachings. Hunting replaced warfare, crafting was used more than mathematics, and magic was applied to healing and growing, rather than destruction. But the propensity for secrecy, to hide from outsiders the true nature of their abilities, never left them. Strangers traveling through from the newly opened trade roads years later saw only typical, uncouth farmers and never imagined that ancient knowledge had survived in this quiet place.

    Of the three priestesses that fled the fall of Midras little is known, but what is I will relate to you. Each priestess removed from the temple an item relating to their skills. The first priestess brought with her a book, a grimoire of magic, of sun and moon and earth magics practiced in the temple in those days. The second priestess brought with her a small sickle-shaped dagger made of solid gold on a silver chain that was known to bestow on its wearer healing and regenerative powers. The third priestess carried out with her a crystal bowl that the priestesses of the moon had used to focus their powers of foretelling. Of these three items, only the whereabouts of the bowl is known for certain.

    Many years after, in her extreme old age the third priestess gazed upon the waters in the bowl of visions under the light of the full moon and spoke this prophecy,

    ‘Just as the goddess has three faces, three aspects, there shall be born in this village three sisters, one skilled in magic, one skilled in the making of things, and one skilled in warfare and the dealing of death. They shall wander far and have many adventures, they shall gain and they shall lose, shall do good works and bad, just as all others in that time. But take care to mark their birth - for it shall herald the return of the avatars!’​

    Whereupon she died and falling, let fall the crystal bowl of visions which cracked and shattered under her, and was buried with her and never seen again.
     
  9. Winfield

    Winfield Legend of the Hearth

    Messages:
    1,291
    Likes Received:
    6,525
    Trophy Points:
    113
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    San Antonio, Texas
    The Fish Song
    by Winfield


    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.

    Pay the monger, pay his fee.
    We have to get out to the sea.
    Load the cargo, get underway.
    We just can't wait another day!

    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.

    Unfurl the sail, pick up speed.
    Our poles are ready for the deed.
    Man yer stations, I do say.
    No time for games or your horseplay!

    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.

    Watch for pirates, they're on the loose.
    Fire the cannon and give 'em the juice.
    Take no prisoners, this ain't the day.
    They'd slow us down & get in our way!

    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.

    Drop the anchor, set the mast.
    The fish are here -- we found at last.
    Hook a serpent, get a sword.
    Kill it quickly without a word!

    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.

    Catch the fish, fill our hold.
    Markets are waiting and have our gold.
    Raise the anchor, head due west.
    Follow the sun while I take a rest!

    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.

    We've come to port, our hold is filled.
    A better catch than we had willed.
    Sell the fish, get some grub.
    I'm buying ale at the nearest pub!!!

    CHORUS
    Bait my hook. Cast my line.
    Fishing is my way of life.
     
    Lady Adnor, Acred, Kara Brae and 12 others like this.
  10. Spoon

    Spoon Avatar

    Messages:
    8,403
    Likes Received:
    23,554
    Trophy Points:
    165
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Sweden
    *A bard's tale, it's supposed to be acted/read out loud*

    Come on barkeep, how about a hearty meal and some ale in exchange for me entertaining your guests with a tale and a song? What? No ale? You strike a hard bargain barkeep, but if so I'd like to ask around for tips afterwards so I can purchase it myself.

    Hey you, move over and give me some room.
    Hear all, hear all, for I'm about to make your blood curl and your hair boil. What? Yes sire, it might be better the other way around.
    What is your name sire?
    The tale of the not so bold sir Jove and the pirate queen it is.

    It was a cold hard day at sea. The winds were howling and the lookout tied fast in the crow's nest, lest he wash away. Waves crashing endlessly over the bow causing the first mate to steer blindly.
    Then, CRASH! A reef.
    The winds drowning out the screams of a crew caught in the cold hold of a merciless sea.

    What is this you ask, the end of the tale so soon? No it is merely the prelude to the real tale. But my throat is a bit hoarse, if someone...? Oh thank you ever so much. No, I don't mind the dregs.
    ...
    Ah that is better.

    Picture this:
    One man wakes up with a start and a scream. Waking from nightmares about a cold wet fury. Only to find that he is between dry linen next to a small stove spreading warmth in the room. The steady rhythm of a calm sea rocking the ship gently.
    With a sigh of relief the bewildered sir Jove rises.
    AAHH!
    Only to find a cutlass against his throat and linens no longer dry. Beside the bed, a dark beauty with wild hair only barely kept in place by a thin tiara of pure gold.
    -What's your virtue?
    Sir Jove mumbles that he knows no virtue of his. The pirate queen hiss into his face and then drags him out by his hair. She commands the crew to raise the sails and prepare for battle. Then she kicks sir Jove and tells him to scrub the deck until she commands otherwise. With too soft hands sir Jove starts his task while the crew efficiently steer the ship onwards. As if in anticipation, a brisk breeze picks up the sails and takes them out of the cove. Soon a merchant ship is hunted down and the pirate queen leads her crew into the fray. First aboard, first to kill and first to cry; Victory!
    While the loot is transferred to her ship, the survivors are lined up before the pirate queen. Ignoring their pleas she goes down the line asking each;
    What's your virtue?

    *cough* *cough* sorry, the tale needs wait. My tongue, *cough* too dry... *cough*
    Oh thank you, mmm, almost half full as well.
    ...
    Aaaah. Where were we? Yes, a line of survivors.

    What's your virtue?
    Love? A stab in the heart. Courage? A blade to the gut. Truth? A rope strangling slowly but surely. The final survivor is in a panic. Mercy? The queen nods, then they tie his hands to his feet and throw him into the sea.
    Soon the queen and crew steer their ship away. Then she walks up to the terrified sir Jove who has watched all the horrors take place. She points towards the deck and then towards the forgotten brush in his hands.
    CRACK!
    Five lashes for disobedience.

    A full year goes by. A new vessel raided each week. Our frightened sir Jove now has calloused hands, a scarred back and a lost spirit watching hundreds die after the queen asks:
    What's your virtue?
    Justice? Keelhauled. Humility? Skewered. Kindness? Cut throat. Chastity? Eh… You don't want to know.
    Then one day, they moor the ship in a muddy cove out of the Bay of Storms. The queen and crew divvy the spoils in great piles of treasure. Then she calls for sir Jove. On trembling legs he stands before her and a small pile is put in front of him. The crew falls silent and looks expectantly at their queen…

    *cough* Would you mind if I? *cough* Oh greatly appreciated.

    Aahh, sweet Vale that was good. Hrm, right.

    Surrounded by piles of ill-gotten treasure, the pirate queen looks sir Jove straight in the eyes.
    What's your virtue?
    Slowly she tilts her head and draws her cutlass.
    -What's your virtue?
    Sir Jove starts to stutter.
    -Co-c-c-cowardice.
    First there is only silence. Then the queen laughs heartily. Then the whole crew explodes in laughter. They laugh so much that some fall into the piles of treasure. The queen even has to put her cutlass on a pile as to slap her knees because she is laughing so much.
    Then the pirate queen steadies herself and turns again to sir Jove.
    What's your virtue?
    – Hate. Sir Jove responds without hesitation
    The queen turns towards her crew with upstretched arms and the crew cheers and wallops.
    Sir Jove quickly takes the cutlass from the pile and WHAM! He stabs it into her back. With the queen slowly dying at his feet he looks around.
    -WHAT’S MY VIRTUE? He screams to the crew.

    In unison the crew respond with one voice;



    TREACHERY.


    And that is how he became Sir Jove, the Coward King of Pirates.
     
    Lady Adnor, Acred, Kara Brae and 10 others like this.
  11. Amber Raine

    Amber Raine Community Ambassador (FR)

    Messages:
    1,971
    Likes Received:
    9,332
    Trophy Points:
    125
    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    Abbotsford, BC Canada
    So, I am unsure how long one can be... But for the first time I would like to enter into the public eye a bit of something I have been working on for well over a year.. Submission may have to be chapter by chapter (1 a month)?
    ((Never before seen work))

    Title (to be altered in the future): The Story - Darkstarr (fan fiction)


    Chapter 1:
    Amber had come to Wody’s tavern because she needed inspiration, yet she also wanted peace. The first she was getting plenty of. The latter, not so much. It was becoming ever evident to her that she was no longer going to find peace anywhere she went. What had made her think going to the highest respected tavern in the lands would bring the peace she required to continue writing?

    Placing her pen upon the table and lifting her mug of Wody’s mead to her lips, Amber welcomed the current conversation erupting all around her.

    As normal, Leviathan was sitting at the corner table bragging about his recent victories. Wody was cracking his typical jokes to try and keep humour and merriment in the air and a line of dancers had formed upon the half wall that separated the bar from the rest of the fair ground.

    As she started drifting off into the tedium and nonsense of it all, words spoken by Leviathan and Wody about the weakness of the one she served snapped her attention to full alert. A crisp sharp tone that could cut through obsidian emanated from her voice; it always did when she would speak of him. There was no question, Amber’s conviction was strong.

    “As I have always said; just because he falls easily in battle does not mean he is weak in mind. Leviathan gloats about his accomplishment of defeating him on a number of occasions. Yet, he has not defeated his mind.

    There was a man who once walked on the other side of that lunar rift, on Earth. He would not lift a finger to harm another, by choice he would take a beating when he could have defended himself easily enough. He did not.

    Yet he had so many followers. Why?

    Because his mind was strong.”

    A look of shock mixed with question crossed the face of the bartender, his laughing and joking nature subsiding for a moment, “.. But, how does a mind grow strong? One can be born with a strong mind, Indeed. I have encountered such men, who claimed to be from Earth, yet they were not phased by anything they saw.

    Others seem to have strong minds, but are partly dead inside.

    I’ve seen others beaten, after saying they were strong, yet they were weeping as babies.”


    Amber stood from her resting place and filled with more strength than she previously had, proceeded to answer Wody’s question. Her tone that of both pride in the one she spoke of as well as the picture she wished to draw forth with her words.

    “A strong mind. He speaks of freedoms from iron thumbs. He offers choices where others direct you how to behave. His strength does not come in forms of brute force but the ability to shine light where things may otherwise be dark.

    The strict rules and guides of Order are like a blanket of darkness, blinding people from the truth. They are not free they are told how to react to given situations.”


    Wody, appearing to become more interested in what the High Priestess spoke in preference to the banter with Leviathan, “It almost does not sound human”


    Amber continued as if not hearing Wody’s words, “His path opens our eyes to what we could not see before. With freedom, we have choice, with choice we have the ability to move past the rules and strict boundaries. To grow beyond what we are told we have to be and settle with.”


    Amber having spoken, took a deep breath and blinked with a nod, “That my friends, is who He truly is. He is the door to freedom.”


    “It sounds like you are describing somebody who grabbed his destiny and made one of his own,” Wody said trying to be heard over the other rabble.


    Amber nodded repeatedly finally paying attention to the comments being made,” He did! Which is as it should be!.”


    Taking a few extra breaths, she settled herself down. She always seemed to get herself worked up speaking of him. She sat back down. Picking up her pen, she drew a line and followed through with the previous thought.


    “... Why believe that your destiny is like this line, Straight and predestined? We all have choices. Those choices give us a new path depending which we take.

    Some you may hear say ‘it is already drawn out for us.’ They are blind and in the dark. They see not that they can change that line.”

    Wody’s voice fell softly, offering perchance a whispered thought. “It almost sounds like you are talking about infinity. Choices upon choices upon choices, always continuing.”

    As Amber always did when someone said or did something that made little sense or she wanted to direct focus to the comment, she tilted her head slightly toward the speaker.


    “Infinite Freedom! Why not? Indeed, there are always choices we can make daily. Why should anything tell you or direct you otherwise?

    I chose to come here tonight, no one told me I had to.

    I chose to order a weak mead instead of being insistent on the wine. No one told me I had to .

    Always choices.”


    Nodding her head as if to put a period to her sentence and an exclamation point to her statement, “This is what I have learned from his teachings.

    Someone does not like your actions. It is not for you to worry about. It is their choice to be upset or not to be upset.”

    “This man must be smart to realize the freedom of infinite choices”, Wody said.

    “He is! Quite Intelligent!” Amber nodded.

    “Another might feel encumbered by not knowing which choice to make.”

    “Aye, and so they need those blinders to direct them. They are not free. Like a horse with blinders on, they have a line and not see everything around them.”

    “You are aware that not choosing is of course a choice also, although not one often taken voluntarily. However, to escape this requires thought that some may not willing to put in.”


    Leviathan’s voice could be heard from the back corner where he had nestled himself into the hot tub. “You would be surprised by the amount of people who choose ignorance over truth.”


    Amber shook her head and said quite pointedly, “ It would be sad to live like that. It is not a life I could see myself in.

    People question why I follow Him so unwavering. *This* is why.”


    “He is the doorway to this freedom. That Lord British - ”Amber, ever the sarcastic diva, took a dramatic pause before continuing, “He puts blinders on his citizens.”


    As the excitement in her voice crescendoed again, Amber took to her feet her voice again filled with pride, “He, allows us to see!”


    Wody, piping in with what many had begun to accept as his comical satire, joked, “These sound like serious matters indeed. Order and Chaos, it is like they are dancing.”


    Amber nodded in agreement, placing the off-handedness of the joke aside, “Aye it is! One of course can not exist without the other.

    Nor is either more good or evil if there are such a thing than the other.”


    Leviathan,having left the hot tub to join the gathering of folk in the center of the tavern, felt the need to interject with thoughts on his own leader, “The Oracle is like the spotlight that shines on the dance.”


    Wody, not missing a beat, let out a lengthy laugh and pointed at three steins on the counter in front of him. “There is the chaos again. A third who enters the dance, claiming to be neutral and simply observing. Yet, they alter the movements of the dance, breaking the balance.”


    Amber’s disappointment in the turn of things could not hide the snide tone in her voice, although it was obvious she was not trying to at this point. “Claims to be neutral. Ha! Yet how can it be balance? If all go to that side, then the balance is still off. There is no true balance.”

    Not to be bested in this contest of words and praise to the given leaders, locked his eyes on Amber in response. His words directed toward her sharp as a knife. “Witch, the Oracle does not directly influence events. Her advice may persuade those of weaker faith to their cause, yet she does not influence anything directly.”

    Wody, noticing the time and preparing for last call, began wiping down the counters around him. Taking up one of the three steins, he used his cloth to wipe the handle and examined the inside before placing it on the shelf. The other two steins then became his focus as he continued his thought on the current topic.

    “Indeed, one wonders if this is the start of a man of chaos, coming forth from a dance born from balance, turning into chaos. Yet, there is an order to it, but not.”

    Amber then bit into her bottom lip, remembering something she was told not yet a fort night ago, in a basement, after a tour of the lands. Her words lingered on the air before floating on the winds to some long lost place, “There is more about him than that however. Something far more.“

    She sat herself back in her chair. A choice was to be made and she knew it. Years had passed and his presence in the lands was becoming a fleeting memory. Amber knew that if this was not the case then, this discussion would not have ever happened. And, as High Priestess she was choosing now to invoke the powers taught to her.

    Chapter 2:

    Cold and empty shadowed halls

    they are slowly forgetting his reputation

    Virtuously imaged walls

    becoming his nightmarish condemnation

    Deepest darkest chaos

    Endlessly his only true compassion

    Tortured screams of trespassers

    remembered, returning his inspiration


    Quickly wiping the grin from his face

    the crowd he then consoles

    It is a mere facade displayed

    to be let into their souls

    His time to reign has returned

    they shall all weep in desperation.

    The High Priestess stands ready

    To welcome New Britannia’s salvation​



    .… walking down a long cold empty hall, his footsteps echoed with each step he took. There was nothing here for him any longer. The long passing memories of tortured spirits had even passed on to their eternal resting place.

    His hand reached toward the wall to the side. The feeling of emotionless brick met his fingertips, sending another empty chill through his body. The screams of pleasure and pain that once filled these halls, now left to deafening silence, had brought an unexplainable warmth to these very walls once upon a time.

    His eyes caught a glimpse of a reddish black hue at the end of the corridor as his movements pulled him ever forward. A long forgotten charge shot through his heart as his pace quickened. That light! It was beckoning to him. The memories swarmed into his mind and he knew it was the reason he was here in this castle once again.

    Finally he reached the end of the hallway, which seemed to stretch further and further the more steps he took. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let the charge of energy race through him. He could only guess what this light was, deep down in the pits of his soul he knew but, on the surface he would only allow himself to guess. He took a step forward, into the room.



    Screaming into the darkness of his bedroom, he shot straight up into a sitting position. Another nightmare viciously jolted him awake, as the echo of his scream filled the silence of the room. These nightmares were becoming more and more frequent. Yet he was left to question, why now? It had been over a decade since they were this bad.

    Kicking the sweat stained blankets from his body he rose from the bed to get himself a glass of water. Cursing to himself sharply, his foot met the reddish black fiber optic track light outlining the floor, creating his night light system. It nearly tipped him over.

    Finally, maneuvering past further obstacles on his way to the restroom, he poured himself a glass of water from the faucet. Tipping the glass to his lips, his eyes tracked to the mirror.

    “What was that?” He wondered. Placing the glass down on the black onyx countertop and tilting his head slightly to the side, he gazed into the right half of the mirror toward what had caught his attention. There had been something there. He swore there was. Yet it was apparently gone now.

    Shaking his head to remove the remnants of sleep fog, he made eye contact with himself in the mirror and laughed, “Letting the spooks get to you in your old age are you?”



    His ear picked up the faint sound of the alarm, rising in volume breaking the mesmerizing concentration he held with himself in the mirror.

    As he moved toward the radio to shut it off so as to not waken the rest of the house, he was stopped in his tracks. The song playing was one he knew well and was broadcast nearly every morning at this time from his favorite radio station. However, there was something audible faintly underneath the haunting sound of Nightwish.

    He listened closer, perhaps the DJ had simply forgotten to turn off their microphone. It was not like them to do this, yet mistakes can happen. So he leaned in closer trying to listen to what this faint sound was. Maybe he could get a listen in to secrets in the studio.


    … I wish I had an angel for one moment of love

    (Lord of Chaos come to us, we will kindle your fire)

    I wish I had your angel, your Virgin Mary undone

    (Lord of Darkness we beseech your touch, we will kindle your fire)

    I’m in love with my lust, Burning angel wings to dust

    (we will kindle your fire, dance the magick circle round, we will kindle your fire)

    I wish I had your angel tonight.

    (we will kindle your fire)​



    His eyes widened as his head began to swim dizzily. He knew those words. They called forth to him, reaching into the very depths of his being. Beckoning him ever closer to the radio, as he reached out his hand he was overcome with the sensation of falling.

    Red and black lights swirled about him as the sensation of descent washed over him. His mind becoming blanketed in confusion as images of past and present flowed together before his eyes. The last thing he remembered before all reds swirled into the blackness of unconsciousness was a radio and a voice soft, faint, and whispering, “come my Lord, your people seek your shadows.”


    ******************************************


    Amber, carrying a black leather bound tome; engraved upon the cover was a spoon hosting an eight pointed star in its bowl, descended into the basement of the church where her altar stood waiting.

    The chaos spoon of the High Priestess rested next to an ornate bowl; both deeply engraved with the same markings that matched the book, that of an eight pointed star of which the center had been pierced through leaving the effect of a shattered moon.

    Hearing the clock chime the midnight hour. Amber placed the tome upon the altar and opened it to the pages that held the secrets to the ‘Awakening Spell’.

    From the altar, she took up a vial of sheeps blood and carefully poured it into the bowl, only enough to fill the engraved star. She then picked up her spoon and with it, outlined an eight pointed star in the air. As she performed this act her eyes turned from a light bluish shade to a deep crimson black.

    The words fell from her lips in a haunting ghost-like tone as she read from the faded runic print upon the decaying page of the tome:


    Out of the depths I have called to thee

    Take us back from whence we be

    Remove the chains of time and space

    Let past be present in this place

    Take us back from whence we came

    To time and place that are the same

    Give his spirit to reign and soar

    The life that haunts as it did before.​


    Invoking the final words of the spell, she lowered the spoon to the bowl and called forth for her Master to rise.

    An ominous flash of light encompassed the table before the altar where her Master laid resting. His eyes opened and he sat up.

    Inhaling the intoxicating air of sheeps blood and incense his words fell from his lips in a tone that reflected times long past yet seemingly so foreign to him, “Where am I?”

    Amber bestilling her heart as the words fell from his lips whispered in response, “my Liege, you are returned to New Britannia.”

    “How long has it been since I have been here?”

    “A very long time, a fortnight past two hundred years.”

    “Why did you bring me back?” He asked as his eyes narrowed looking now directly toward Amber, his voice becoming more stern than it had previously been.

    “The halls of your castle have laid empty all this time. The echoes are fading, as is your work my Liege. Your “friend” and our foes seem to forget who truly reigns as they become blinded and lose sight of the freedoms you deliver.

    My Liege the lands as well as its people have need of your guidance. Will you not take up the throne in your castle once again?”

    The man moved around the altar which Amber stood behind and looked down upon her, the shadow of a grin creeping across his face. Memories began to swim through the lifting confusion that had held his thoughts in dream. He was reminded of the High Priestess back in the old lands and of the work he had done there.

    “Yes, I must first visit my ‘old friend.’ New Britannians shall be blind no longer!”

    Amber's eyes returning from the crimson black to a brighter hue of greenish blue, chose her words carefully and speaking in the language of her people responded. “It shall serve the people well, my Liege. To be reminded they do not have to follow like lost sheep.”

    Amber dropped to her knee and bowed her head in unwavering respect and loyalty, “Welcome home, my Liege. Lord Blac….”

    “Stop! That name is dead!” He said matter of factly, keeping his eyes marked upon this red headed elf, Amber. “From now on, call me DarkStarr!”
     
    Last edited: Jun 17, 2015
  12. Blake Blackstone

    Blake Blackstone Avatar

    Messages:
    1,019
    Likes Received:
    2,979
    Trophy Points:
    113
    Location:
    Interweb
    A single tear wept out of his eye, different than the ones he felt when the funeral pyre was lit for his father. This one was thicker and stuck to his face as it dried. Haunching on all fours, Thoren struggled to focus with the eye that was ripped from the blunt strike that had sent him reeling to the floor.

    They probably could have killed him quickly since they got the initiative with an attack from behind. But this unsavory bunch enjoyed watching the pain of a struggle, especially when they had the upper hand.

    Thoren laughed to himself and wondered why these were the occasions he lived for, and possibly, would also end up dying for. It was in these moments that he could grasp the truth of life, that there is no past and the future is just a dream. For some reason, he knew he wasn’t lucky enough to have his life force drained at the hands of petty thieves, in a dirty tavern, where no one would ever take notice.

    ~~
    They were warned not to come to the gambling den that lie on the outskirts of Kobold territory, by more than one of the travelers and traders along the Dust Road. But the party was in need of food, supplies, and rest, in a warm bed, alongside a good whore. The journey from the east had proven to be a rough task and none of the wandering traders wanted the various hides, skins, and venom sacks they had collected along the way. So the one moon cycle detour was more of a necessity than a want.
    Before they came to the first “toll bridge”, which marked the outskirts of the hamlet, Sugesh decided to hang back so it would appear they weren't together. It meant two tolls, and they really didn't have the coin to spare, but it also meant that the bandits couldn't devise a plan for two. Even if the bandits weren't planning anything, Sugesh knew that Thoren would more than likely drag himself into some sort of trouble. The two were brothers, not by birth, but by adventure.
    ~~

    A swift kick to the jaw, followed by a strike of a mace in the ribs, made Thoren spit out his teeth and breath. As he wheezed in, two teeth danced across the floor like dice cast for lots. Never in his life had he lost consciousness in a battle, but he reveled at the fact that there was a first time for everything.

    The man that had falsely accused him of cheating in kabut(a card and dice game loved by the lower class) stood over him cursing and laughing and then cursing again. The pure joy of doing evil shown in his eyes.

    “Outlander, you think you can come to Corosen and outwit me”, he yelled, “ I built this damned place”.

    As the ring leader drew his gold-hilted dagger, he bent over to Thoren’s ear, “ I love drawing red lines on Outlander’s necks. When I’m done, we will prop you back up in that chair at the kabut table so we all can see your crimson smile without having to hear your sarcastic mouth.”

    Thuddddd. The makeshift tavern door slammed against the wall and came off one of its hinges. The smile maker instantly was lying on top of Thoren with an arrow through his neck, dagger clanking to the floor. Eye to eye, Thoren gave him a wink as he gurgled for air. Two more short, almost simultaneous, whistles pierced the stagnant air of the bar. And two more fell from the precise shots. The bandit wielding the mace bolted for the back door as Sugesh drew his katanas, discarding his bow for the moment. The remaining thugs engaged in some melee, but were heavily outmatched, leaving one partially decapitated and the other skewered through his gut.

    Thoren mustered up the strength to roll the corpse off of him and struggled to his feet. With a grin he looked over at Sugesh, “What do you think that dagger will bring once we get to the city?".

    Sugesh didn't laugh.
     
    Last edited: Jun 19, 2015
    Sir_Hemlock, Acred, Womby and 8 others like this.
  13. Net

    Net Avatar

    Messages:
    3,727
    Likes Received:
    11,178
    Trophy Points:
    153
    The monster in the maze

    I only vaguely remember my life before I was trapped in the maze. I was lured in by the legend of immense treasure in the middle of the labyrinth, and stories of the monster living there never scared me.

    I've managed to find water, and there were edible plants in the maze. Sometimes even a bird or a rabbit ventured in here. I have learned how to survive, but I have failed again and again to find an exit or the entrance.

    I have yet to meet another sentient being, be it a monster or another adventurer. I do not remember how long I've been here. Has it been a mere few days or weeks? Months? Years? Maybe I have been here for eons; I cannot tell. Left, right, forward. There, where the juicy elderberries are growing.

    * * * * *​

    I heard a sound behind me. A warrior in full plate armour stood right behind me. Another lost soul? Or, perhaps, was it another adventurer who knew the way out? As I extended my arm to greet him, the warrior unsheathed his great sword and charged me. I sidestepped just in time, but he managed to scratch me. The pain fired through my arm. He makes another charge, and I managed to roll and trip him. His helmet fell off… or her helmet. To my surprise, I saw a beautiful face partly covered by long, dark hair. I grabbed her sword and put it to her neck, prepared to investigate who she was and why she attacked. The stark terror in her eyes surprised me, as if she was scared by something worse than losing a fight.

    Then a shadow passed over her face. I heard a swishing sound behind me and turned… But not in time. A sword pierced my body. Another warrior in the same plate armour. I was not dead, yet. My rage gave me supernatural strength as I grabbed the warrior and shoved him above my head. He dropped his sword. I threw him to the ground, where he did not move. The female grabbed the sword and hit my leg. I dropped to the ground. As she attacked me again, I shielded my face with my arms and felt hot blood spatter my skin. I gathered my remaining strength to grab her neck and closed my fingers around her throat. I felt the blood running from the cut on my arm. She dropped the sword but instead took a dagger strapped to her leg and thrust it right under my ribcage. I felt the blood seeping down my side, but I refused to let go. She kicked with her feet and hit me with her arms. Still, I did not let go.

    * * * * *​

    Finally, the hitting and kicking stopped. I let go, and the beautiful woman was lying still. Too still. I am still lost. The blood stopped dripping, but I felt weak. Very weak. I see something reflected in her shining armour. The image is distorted: the big furry face of a monster. Now, I remember. Obsidians killed my parents and turned me into something. Satyr – that is how they called me. I am the monster. The monster in the maze.
     
    Last edited: Jun 25, 2015
    Sir_Hemlock, Gaelis, Acred and 9 others like this.
  14. Greyhaven

    Greyhaven Avatar

    Messages:
    146
    Likes Received:
    718
    Trophy Points:
    18
    Location:
    The United Kingdom
    (A few sheets of hastily hand-written text)

    Jarial's Magic Recipe by Bronny

    I've got all the bits !

    Everything I need to make Jarial's Magic Recipe !

    Oh, this is going to make me so much faster and stronger. I will be transformed into an instant hero flying up and down the King's Road, slaying the monsters and saving the trade caravans in no time ! I might even go further ! Not as far as that Shadow Wood place though. As well as wolves, I've heard that there's spiders as big as a cow wandering around in it !

    Anyway, here is what I've got, just in case you want to have a go at making the recipe yourself :-

    1) Some dregs of Scrattocks' "Old Clobber"
    Luckily, I managed to get hold of this through my own clumsiness. I tripped over my own feet as I went running through the door of the Hearth of Britannia, and went crashing into a nearby table knocking the flagons of ale flying. Amidst shouts and insults hurled from all corners, I managed to snatch up a cup with a bit of the ale still in it, and made a speedy exit out through the window.

    2) Some "Wasp Squeezings"
    I was a bit dubious about this one, but I reasoned that the recipe needs a bit of power and spiciness ! As the Apothecary was showing me some of this stuff, I accidentally (on purpose) knocked over his bookshelf. Occupied with fussing over his precious tomes of herbal remedies, and calling me names that sounded most unnatural, he did not notice some of the "squeezings" go missing !

    3) Horse Spittle
    The amount of treats that I had to give old Smith in order to acquire sufficient of this was ridiculous ! That horse is going to get so fat I reckon his legs will snap !

    4) A Dry Bun
    Broken in half this will suck up the mixture nicely. Jarial calls this a "delivery medium". Sounds posh so it's bound to work ! And no, I don't feel guilty about going into the bakery and shouting, "THERE'S A GIANT RAT IN HERE !"

    And now I am ready ! I will mix it up, eat it, and let you know how great I feel !

    (Smudge marks.)

    Oracle preserve us ! Everything's hurting really badly ! I reckon my poor belly's gonna rise up through me, leap out my mouth and escape ! When I find that Jarial, I'm going to kick him in the...

    (There is no more written.)
     
    Sir_Hemlock, Acred, Womby and 7 others like this.
  15. Kara Brae

    Kara Brae Avatar

    Messages:
    3,872
    Likes Received:
    12,189
    Trophy Points:
    165
    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    Bavaria
    The Road not Taken

    I was strolling along in Ravenswood,
    Thinking of times gone by.
    Two paths diverged, and both looked good
    From the vantage point of where I stood
    Under the starry sky.

    One seemed well worn in the pale moonlight
    The other far less trodden
    I took the latter to the right
    Though it was rougher and far less bright
    Then I noticed it was sodden.

    It was so dark it was hard to see
    But I felt the ground was muddy
    I slipped and grabbed onto a tree
    That towered menacingly over me
    And saw that my shoes were bloody.

    Corpses lay strewn in front and behind
    The earth a soaking red
    Skeletons loomed - I felt out of my mind
    I ran while around me their arrows whined
    And fled from the walking dead.

    Then I heard the howling of a pack!
    Fearful and in a rush
    I charged ahead without looking back.
    Careless I stumbled off the track
    Crashing through the underbrush.

    I got caught in a web spun between trees
    While spiders attacked me full force
    Rooted as well, I fell to my knees
    Begging for mercy, "Please, spiders, please!"
    Shouting until I was hoarse.

    In the blush of dawn a savior appeared
    A mage named Kara Brae
    She smote the spiders as she neared
    Until the entire wood was cleared
    And the spiders slunk away.

    While I was strolling under the starry sky
    Two paths diverged in the wood that day.
    Since by nature I am shy
    I took the road less travelled by.
    I should have gone the other way!
     
    Last edited: Jun 26, 2015
  16. Acred

    Acred Avatar

    Messages:
    755
    Likes Received:
    2,180
    Trophy Points:
    105
    Gender:
    Female
    Location:
    The Netherlands
    Hans Goes beneath Neath


    Hans often stopped and knelt at the Pool of Reflection as he went about his duties in the town of Neath. It wasn’t tiredness from shlepping the bundle of torches and relighting those that had burned out. He was not weary from the bending and lifting to remove the debris and rocks that had tumbled onto the pathways. He just liked to look at himself in the mirror of the pool. Sometimes his features were highlighted by the glow of the phosphorescent moss around the rim. Sometimes there was a pearly flash off the scales of one of the cavern’s blind carp. When the alignment was just right, daylight or a strong moon’s glow bounced off the cave’s crystals and reached the pool’s surface. If he leaned forward his reflection would be silhouetted by a crown of brilliant shafts of vari-coloured light.

    Hans hoped that the folks who were coming to live in Neath would arrive soon. It would be exciting to show them all the fantastic nooks and crannies of the caverns. They would marvel at the odd and interesting creatures and plants he had discovered. He was quite content to be Neath’s caretaker. He felt thankful that Sir had found him and his mother and allowed them to live here. Still, it was a bit quiet down here. Each time his rounds took him up to the cave entrance at the surface of Novia, he scanned the horizon to see if anything was traveling in this direction. Well, he did at nightime anyway. He flinched a bit during the full day. The fierce light of the sun above brought back frightening memories of fire and flashes in the sky and rippling waves of pain. His mother, Bertha, didn’t like bright light either. She always said, “Candlelight is all a woman needs.” Thinking of how much she had to say on any subject, Hans admitted to himself that it wasn’t actually so quiet down here.

    One morning when his round was done, he knelt and mused about the dragon bone monument that straddled the pool. Had it been set there by some dwellers in the far past? Or was it the dragon itself who had chosen this spot to remain for eternity?

    The leviathan’s long neck and head thrust upwards as if gazing forevermore through the opening to the skies above. Its tail was oddly straight, pointing the way to the darkest part of the cavern. Hans shouldered his heap of fresh torches and patted his tunic pocket to be sure that the small box of fire beetles was there. They were tiny but voracious. Placing one on a torch meant snatching his hand away fast as they spit sparks into the pitch – making it flowing and edible for them as it burned.

    Walking around the pool and hearing his mother’s mutters from up the road in their hut, Hans did not climb the pathway towards home. He headed along the bones of the dragon’s tail where the floor of the cavern declined ever more steeply. He felt a faint, warm breeze coming towards him. It had the sour smell of some chemical. No insects or plants were to be seen in this area. It was very dark. Usually he didn't need much to see his way. The glow from a mushroom, slime or moss. The reflection off the crystals. The sudden flash from a startled bug. To be sure of his footing, Hans lit a fresh torch.

    Sir had asked him to search for possible crevices, not only to place warning signs, but because they might lead to a way down to the lava flows in the depths of Novia. These could be tapped to provide warmth for Neath and energy for the kilns, ovens and forges. As he reached the tip of the beast’s tail such a crevice became visible in the torch’s light. It was just possible to enter the split between the huge stones. Should he descend and investigate? He remembered his father, Bart, telling him witty stories of adventure and how he’d been taken along on the travels of many intrepid explorers. Yes, he would go down.

    A wisp of a tale from olden days made him think he had better leave some marker for himself to find the way back. He grabbed his packet of bark bread and chewed a bit. Would a trail of crumbs do? Well, bark bread was dark and hard to see in the torchlight. Suddenly he remembered the salve the Doctor had given him for his bruises, made partly from the luminescent caterpillars in the cave. He pulled the phial out of his pocket and smeared a bit of the salve on the rock at head height. When he looked back he could see it glimmering, so he kept doing that at each turn as he carefully picked his way down. Narrow paths branched off but the main channel headed deeper below the town. The sound of water burbled here and the air grew warmer and more humid. He continued on so far beneath Neath, that he could no longer hear his mother’s incessant chatter.

    He smelled something acrid rising with the draft from below. Sulfurous ash, he decided. After a sharp turn, surprise brought him to a halt. One wall fell away and he stood on a shelf of rock, staring into the dark, empty space in front of him. Hans lit a fresh torch and held both torches in extended arms as he carefully shuffled to the edge and peered over it. What did he see gleaming down there? It was not the glow from fluid lava. The torches showed rainbow-like sparkles from gems or crystals and flashes of reflected flame off strange, metallic shapes. Was it the dragon’s horde, or the remainders of an even deeper settlement than Neath, one long forgotten?
     
    Sir_Hemlock, Kara Brae, Vyrin and 3 others like this.
  17. blaquerogue

    blaquerogue Avatar

    Messages:
    3,822
    Likes Received:
    6,668
    Trophy Points:
    165
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Skara Brae
    Oath of the Warsworn

    Gripping his sword tight the blood rushed to his hands,
    He was the sworn protector of these war torn lands,
    Even though death was likely to prevail,
    This is the one mission he could not fail,
    Innocent lives were at stake this dark and dreary day,
    A storm brewed on the horizon the clouds dark and grey,
    Climbing upon his mount he rode off towards the storm,
    His shadowy figure a silhouette strong and stout was his form,
    The people shouted praise as he passed through the street,
    The evil that plagued them soon its death, it would meet,
    No shiny armor no medals he was not not even high born,
    Off into battle he stayed true to the oath of "War Sworn",
    Although he was a Hospitlar and the healer of pain,
    He was Warrior first and foremost the strongest link in the chain,
    As metal clashed with metal and blood stained the ground,
    This one single warrior would not be downed,
    Beaten to the mud fighting from his knees,
    He held firm his footing as solid as Oak trees,
    As the bodies lay around he felt a sudden and sharp pain,
    He knew that his enemies this day, were not the only ones to be slain,
    He fell over into the mud and took his last breath,
    Felt the cold chill creeping up on him followed by death,
    He fought well this last battle and Bards shall sing his name,
    Although he was a modest Knight, unknown he shall remain.
     
    Sir_Hemlock, Acred, Kara Brae and 4 others like this.
  18. Vyrin

    Vyrin Avatar

    Messages:
    2,956
    Likes Received:
    7,620
    Trophy Points:
    153
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Minnesota, USA
    Between Worlds

    Can you truly ever choose between worlds? One has been all you've ever known, all you hold dear. The other, uncertain, but exciting in its possibilities. It is nothing less than deciding between two different lives and undergoing one death.

    You pray and wait for the signs that would make it clear. Signs that would make it easy to embrace one, and consign the other to grateful memory. But they never come. You are left in a waiting room that has two doors that go in completely opposite directions. How far can I keep going before the choice is made? Am I already too committed to run back to the other?

    It is possible to be balanced on the edge of a knife, slowly being split into two as you remain. Each option keeps you stuck: perfectly balanced between the fear of deciding poorly, the difficulties of the path and the potential good that might come.

    But time itself sounds an alarm. As it presses you forward, potentialities disappear and new ones open. Ultimately, deciding to stand still is not an option. You will be pushed, kicking and screaming, into a choice - perhaps the only one that remains.

    Standing on the heights of all that has supported me and sustained me and made me who I am, I still hesitate. Can there be no looking back, no regret, as I lose hold and plunge into the abyss of new possibilities? It will do me no good to lament my finiteness anymore. Yes I must decide, and in deciding, step forward once again.

    Yes, this day, I choose ale. Or wait, no, mead. Gah! Ok, an ale please!
     
    Last edited: Jun 28, 2015
  19. TRLobo

    TRLobo Avatar

    Messages:
    173
    Likes Received:
    291
    Trophy Points:
    18
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Deep east Texas
    Not sure if my submission will be found favorable -- it may sow sedition amongst the peasants.

    The following has been related to me by someone who knows the whole story. Some names have been withheld to protect anonymity.

    The man in the Guard Captain uniform adjusted the mask over his face to hide his identity, strode to the front of the room and banged his sword hilt on the table to quiet all those in attendance. “Listen to me good people of Novia. I know the very thought of the dead walking is enough to chill even the stoutest of heroes. I know, and can say without any reservation that the thought of having to run a sword through one of my dead kith or kin that have been raised through Necromancy does not give me any satisfaction. No more satisfaction than any of you would gain. That’s not why we are here tonight. We are here to address an even more powerful problem.”

    The crowd noise swelled as some of the Guard Captain’s plants made the appropriate noises of agreement. Those gathered weren’t even sure of what the Captain’s subject was yet, and he knew that for some it was a very unpopular idea.

    He continued, “The Elven Scourge brought by these so-called ‘outlanders’ is far worse than even the dead rising from their crypts. We have seen that for every skeleton walking, there are no less than ten Elves. For every Lich, there are five Elvish Mages. For every ghost, ghast and ghoul, there are eight Elvish Archers.” He had no idea what the true numbers were, but his benefactors had suggested using those exact figures. The numbers were big enough to be frightening, but not so big as to be beyond comprehension for the peasants gathered here tonight. Each of them at least knew how to count to ten.

    The plants muttered the proper words again. Several of them saying that they had seen ‘witch lights’ or shadowy wisps moving through the forests.

    The noise swelled and the Captain banged on the table again, “Quiet! Quiet, please!”

    His compatriots shouted for quiet as well. It wouldn’t do for the mob to get out of control before he stirred them up properly.

    He spoke again as the crowd of nearly a hundred gentlefolk settled and listened as he continued making his pitch. “I trust that by now you’ve all heard of the self-proclaimed savior of Novia that calls himself ‘Lord British’. His friends have returned, and again brought misery with them. One only has to look to the night sky and gaze upon our moon, to see what kind of ‘help’ they offer. Isn’t it coincidental that as all of his friends arrive, we are also beset upon by the monsters known as Elves?”

    Someone near the back of the room tried to heckle the Captain, but he had known ahead of time who was most likely to try shouting him down, and the heckler was silenced by the gentle pressure of the point of a dagger near his kidney. The dagger wielder just smiled and whispered softly that the man who felt like he needed to disagree with the Captain should simply stay silent. There were no further objections from that part of the room, and the Captain continued with his scripted speech.

    “Now I know that many of you may disagree with me about the fair countenanced Lord British, and even though I despise him and all that he stands for, I am not calling for direct action against him. I wish only that the people of Novia expend as much effort in eradicating, eliminating, and destroying what I believe are his minions, the Elves. I want to set a bounty for each Elf that is killed. I propose that for each pair of Elf ears turned in, the person collecting the bounty is given a single gold piece. There may be some problems with this idea, but they will only be slight problems that can be worked out over time. I have said my piece, and I will now answer any questions you may have. If you have a question, please maintain decorum and simply raise an arm and I will call on you.”

    The crowd chatter was about what he had suspected it would be as his agents steered the conversation in the right direction.

    A modestly dressed young woman with ginger hair, seated near the front, raised her hand. The Captain called on the woman as the crowd was again hushed as she spoke. “Guard Captain, good sir, watcha got under that mask that ya need to keep hidden away?”

    She had used the perfectly practiced inflection and the exactly duplicated accent of a peasant from Owl’s Head.

    The Captain replied, “My dear lady, I only keep my identity hidden because of a knowledge that many would call my words seditious. I am NOT calling for the overthrow of any of our rightful leaders. I am simply trying to protect my family, my friends, and my country from those who truly ARE traitorous and allowing all of it to be destroyed. Much like our moon has been destroyed.”

    After the meeting, the young woman would doff her wig and change back into her Guard’s uniform. The Captain thought that he might provide her with an extra coin or two in her pay this week.

    Before he could set eyes on another of his men, a young woman dressed in the worn leather armor of an adventurer stepped into his line of sight.

    “Begging your pardon, Captain, but I have a question.”

    He hadn’t expected her to be here. He had specifically done as much as he could to exclude her, but word had somehow made it back to Janan DeBroi, the leader of the Bleeding Heart Guild. He couldn’t refuse to answer her question, nor could he show any knowledge of who she is without giving away his own identity.

    He felt sour bile rise to his throat as he pointed at her and growled, “Yes, what is your question?”

    “Why do you want to treat the Elves as animals?” she asked.

    “Young lady, the Elves act as animals. They only growl at us and will attack us on sight,” he responded. “How would you have us treat them?”

    She seemed taken aback, “Well, they wear clothing and are intelligent enough to cast magical spells. Doesn’t this raise them above the animals?”

    He inwardly chuckled, “The skeletons walking amongst us wear clothing. Would you object to them being slain on sight? The liches all cast magical spells. Would you like to set up a dialogue with them as well? I ask you again, young lady, how would you have us treat them?”

    She seemed flustered, as if she hadn’t put any thought into her objections and arrived at her conclusions and opinions devoid of any factual knowledge. She was playing into his hands better than any stooge.

    The Guard Captain continued, “If it were possible I would certainly like to keep my family and friends from danger without having to kill. I loathe the idea that we have to kill to survive. But the Elves are in the woods surrounding communities throughout Novia. If you would like to be our representative to the Elves, I will hire you on. Know this though, young lady, every man I’ve sent to try to talk to the Elves has either come back on his shield, or never been heard from again. If you have no further questions, I’d like to go on with the meeting.”

    Two of his men had worked towards the front of the crowd, and he caught their eyes, waving them off before they could hone in on Janan. She had lost her fight before it even began. Even she had served her purpose, though if he had caught the attention of the Bleeding Hearts, he knew his benefactors would have to move quickly.

    At one point during the meeting, one of his loyal men, wearing the garb of a dockworker, suggested that the bounty be on the hides of the Elves, like it is for the other animals. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Janan rush from the room. Back of her hand pressed to her mouth to halt the loss of her dinner.

    He explained that the skin of an Elf wasn’t much use. What he kept to himself was that the ears could be sold to several of the Kobold tribes for use in soups and tribal rituals, and there were LOTS of tribal rituals in need of the pointed ears, and the Kobolds loved their soup. The Kobolds would pay 2 gold pieces for a single ear. There was much money to be made, and he wanted his share.

    Before long, the meeting broke up, and the Guard Captain made his way back to his rooms. “Well done, Captain. And you handled Janan as well as I expected.”

    The Captain bowed slightly, and removed his mask.
     
    Last edited: Jun 24, 2015
  20. Blaze Barkley (RedDeer)

    Blaze Barkley (RedDeer) Avatar

    Messages:
    147
    Likes Received:
    276
    Trophy Points:
    18
    Gender:
    Male
    Location:
    Poland
    Klaus the Mouse, Pt. 1

    There was a mouse called Klaus who sat alone behind the wall of an old house. His friends didn't dare to come near there but Klaus didn't care. He was obsessed you see, same way as you and me, with manuscripts that from an other dimension just had to be. He collected those from all around the world, some very old, some never sold, most of them covered in mold. Although a great job he did, he was a mouse and couldn't read, so he had to find another way to satisfy his need.

    Not knowing what to do and filled with rage, Klaus bit into the page, invoking a spell left there by some powerful mage. There was a bright flash, and after a short fall, he did crash into water with a loud splash. When he swam up and gasped for air, it occurred to him he's not in his lair. The river carried him some place unknown as he tried his best not to drown, finally getting onto shore near a small town.

    "Where am I?" the mouse thought, traveling through an empty lot that was yet to be bought. He was wet and alone, surrounded by houses built from cold stone, but for some reason he felt he was finally...

    "...Home", he said and covered his mouth in shock - did he just talk? What a puzzle! Not a squeak but actual human words escaped his muzzle! "This is weird..." Suddenly a vision in his head appeared of a man with long, white beard. "I must find this man!" he screamed as he ran. "I need to do it as fast as I can! I feel I'm a part of some bigger plan!"

    His instinct led him under a tall clock tower, which just so happened to strike the midnight hour, making the poor mouse whimper and cower. "I can feel it... It's a place of power". He squeezed under the door, expecting a monster roar, instead hearing someone snore. He followed the dreadful sound up the stairs that went round and round, until the sleeping man was finally found.

    He climbed the bed, sat on the sleeping man's chest and to wake him up he tried his best. "YOU! You brought me here! Wake up and give me my quest!" The man rolled to the side and mumbled "oh, it's you avatar, please let me rest. Tomorrow is a better time for your big test."

    Klaus was not believing his ears, the man obviously had drunk too many beers! Still filled with bad feelings and inner fears, he curled up on the pillow trying to stop his tears. He fell asleep soon after that, having a nightmare about a rat, a bat and a cat. However, if you have any further queries, you'll need to wait for the next series!

    Book 2 of 20 in the SotA Community First Series
     
    Last edited: Jun 27, 2015
    Acred, Sir_Hemlock, TRLobo and 5 others like this.
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.