woot for creative outlets. If anyone looks back, I used to be a ficcer myself, and never got around to finishing them. THEYRE STAYING DEAD, DAMNIT! STOP BUGGING ME!
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: KaFKa on 2008-03-22 03:10 ]</font>
woot for creative outlets. If anyone looks back, I used to be a ficcer myself, and never got around to finishing them. THEYRE STAYING DEAD, DAMNIT! STOP BUGGING ME!
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: KaFKa on 2008-03-22 03:10 ]</font>
I clicked on this thread expecting a fic dammit. I'm suing for false advertisement!
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Xaeris on 2008-03-11 17:13 ]</font>
PROLOUGE
Politics
High King Jersin stood before the court his amazing power and influence had brought to him, an astounding gathering of the most powerful the land to be seen could offer. The Kings, the Queens, the Warlords and leaders of secretive, yet powerful, cabals. All this, and more was brought to him, simply by his name and reputation.
Five they sat, some grudgingly and other willing, waiting for his majesty's presence to verify their prolonged journeys to his castle, set in the middle of a great valley of farmland and wood.
The Twin Queens Latika and Keldra sat at a side, their chairs pulled close together. Latika wore a luxurious white dress, diamonds and Onyx gems adorning the seams of the flowing garment. An intentional clash with her raven black hair, cut short, to the top of her neck, her green eyes piercing and cutting to the core of any facade that one of the other guests may put on. Her skin was olive in color, unblemished. Latika's face was that of annoyance and indignation, to be called to a petty conference of arguing leaders and brutes.
Keldra was a seeming polar opposite, her dress a supple dark blue felt, lined with silver threads and ruby couplings. Her hair was also cut short, but a stark, pure white. Her pleasent and soft blue eyes matched her seemingly happy posture and appearence, a slight smile across her thin, pale lips.
To their left stood a brutish figure, nearly seven feet tall, its shoulders almost four feet wide, Its skin a mottled gray-green, with diry looking black hair long enough to cover its shoulders, with two braids coming before its armored shoulders. He wore blood-red armor with gold trim, the shoulder pieces seemingly cut right from a dragon's paw. War-commander Gralkrek commanded a full five legions of similarly built Orc warriors, one of the fiercest militarys seen or heard of in times past, and definitively the most fearsome of today's armies. War-Commander Gralkrek's face mirrored his inner rage, almost bursting with the thought of being summoned like some pup not even worthy of trust for itself.
Across the room sat a small, unassuming figure, no more than five feet six inches at the head, cloaked in simple grey, the only difinitive marking being the striking golden eyes the man had, amazing and wonderous they were, but the face that witheld them wore that of warning, and many didn't approach within an arms reach of him.
And lastly in the back of the room sat one known only as Impulse, a leader, of sorts, of a group with ties to every nation within two-months ride of her own small land, set in a high valley among the mountians to the north.
the self-appointed High King Jerin walked boldly into the meeting chamber, his lavish red robe flowing with movement and an ever-changing tapestry dancing across it. He walked easily to every dignitary, shaking their hands and thanking them for their presence. He bade them to sit, and took a seat of his own. the most lavish, of course, decorated with gems and other faniful odds and ends.
And so Jerin spoke, his voice filling and echoing in the hall, magnified by its resonance. "Thank you all for meeting me here, this day. It is sad that your peers thought not of working for the betterment of tomorrow, only their toils in the present. I am heartened, however, by your presence, master of the Garrote." He nodded to the golden-eyed figure. "Were it not for you, this land would have fallen to turmoil ages ago."
Impulse quickly raised her voice, filled with hatred and rage "the wretch deals death for profit! He is a power-mongering thief of the wors--" She was cut off short, an invisible hand covering her mouth and stifling any further objections she may have had.
"We come not to argue, mistress, only to speak for those that we are in service to." Jerin paused meaningfully for a moment. "Our people. Our land."
"And so, as our gracious host, would you be so kind as to start discussion of the topic, High King Jerin" Keldra softly spoke, her voice melodic yet forceful. the rest of the congregation nodded in agreement.
"Very well then. Although we are all used to the wistful, unsure talk of the political, I would speak frank and honestly on this matter. And to be prudent, I wish to talk of peace between our bordering lands, agreements, absorbtion, if it were, into the fold of our great land." Jerin kept his gaze in the direction of the Twin Queens. "You, Latika and Keldra, could begin anew your trade, cut off after the last war between yourselves and the hineous ethereals." He then quickly shifted gaze to Gralkrek "And you, war-Commander Gralkrek, would no longer be known by such a lowly title. You would be known as High Warlord Gralkrek, commander of a full score of legions!" Jerin took a prolonged, soft breath. "Impulse, your cabal will know new influence in regions unheard of now, and be powerful beyond even your current dreams." Jerin then looked to the Master of the Garrote. "And I ask of you, your permission." a wry smile spreading across his lips.
"And so you would sever the spine from my people! you ask for agreement, I see servitude. you speak of peace, I see submission. you pleasently talk of ideals and dreams, but you would sooner subvert us all than let us stand side by side, High King Jerin." Gralkrek roared, the last part lowering to a growl. His armor rattling somewhat from the exertion.
"The Orc speaks truths, bare and apparent. you would neuter our land only to greedily take it up for yourself. Maybe I should remind you of only four years ago, when I myself came to battle to save you from problems of your own doing." Latika stood, arrogant and defiant. "And so you, Duke Jerin, summon me and Keldra as if we were your subjects. Silence yourself, and dismiss any thoughts of your ill-percieved coups from your mind" Latika angrily stormed twoards the door, knocking two armored guards out of her way upon exiting, followed shortly by an embarrassed Keldra.
Impulse watched the scene, softly chuckling, but only letting a slight smile across her full lips. "I take my leave, High King, Master of assasins." She drew out a graceful and flamboyant bow, then walked out, head held high and impassionate.
Gralkrek stood a moment longer, staring the high king down before leaving, knocking out the two guards that Latika had previously shoved.
the master of the Garrote stood alone, in front of the indignified and embarrassed high king, lapping up the misery with dark sarcasm. "You do not have my permission." And then disappeared, nothing left but a faint memory.
__________________________________
There, happy?
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: KaFKa on 2008-03-11 18:08 ]</font>
Quite.
Introductions were good, I had a good picture of where everyone was standing and what sort of air was flowing about them in this prologue. Capitalization error at the start of the 8th paragraph.
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Xaeris on 2008-03-11 18:43 ]</font>
ah.
now thats some fine dialogue, kaffie. : D
Eeeenteresting. I like the descriptions, especially of the queens. What kind of update schedule are you thinking about for this?
Whenever I can, pretty much. I'm not going to do it religiously, but bi-weekly feels about good.On 2008-03-11 19:08, CupOfCoffee wrote:
Eeeenteresting. I like the descriptions, especially of the queens. What kind of update schedule are you thinking about for this?
o shit, it's mom
Hey KaFKa, you're back to writing? This should be nice, I look forward to more peices.
Written well enough (if your ignore typos)
Too short to give me a real idea of where things are going but enough to give setting. I'll read on to see what's going to happen. Also, I noticed that Gralkrek "knocked out" the guards but received only passing mention as if he just spat in a spittoon.
CHAPTER ONE
Begin Anew
Sena awoke roughly, her eyes snapping open and inhaling sharply, at the same instant her muscles contracting and snapping her into a defensive posture instictively. She gazed upon the place she called home for now, a jostling wagon, filled with odds and ends, sunlight filtering in through the canvas covering, casting a brown haze on everything. A slight wind blew through the wagon, moving the light amount of dust that filled the air. Sena looked to the driver, who was intent on following the preceeding wagon in the caravan. His wide-brimmed hemp hat covering half his back, the other half covered by a brown and white poncho that served as the man's only set of clothing. Sena relaxed, seeing nothing had changed in the wagon, only to be violently bumped again as the driver impassively ran into another hole in the dirt road they were traveling along.
Annoyed, Sena grumbled and stood halfway up, her limber frame easily adjusting to the new posture. She delicately stepped between crates, ducking and weaving between swaying trinkets hanging from the roof of the wagon. Soon she was at the front of the wagon and stood sraight, stretching the sleep out of her body and taking in a hearty breath of the dusty air they traveled through. Letting out a little cough, Sena brushed her auburn hair behind her ears and squatted down next to the driver, wrapping her arms around her knees wich were at her chest.
"So, how much longer until we get to Chabad, Jonas?"
"About a tales time, if you would like to hear another." Jonas replied, turning his head to reveal his middle-aged face, dirtied with the dust of the trail and time. Jonas was a talespinner, a loremaster, a negotiator and a merchant. Known the kingdom of the High King's majesty over for his knowledge of lands beyond and the stories he has from them.
"I can tell you of the lands beyond Chabad, of the twin spires, even of the Queens themself. Or about the strange things they've been fighting with for almost four years. Or..."
"What about the Queens? And the nobles in their court?" Sena asked quickly, her body tightening at the mention of nobility and royalty. Sena was an exile of her own doing, having killed a corrupt noble in cold blood in the streets of Jersalem, the castle-city of High King Jersin's kingdom. Raised as a street rat and cutpurse, Sena was skilled with the subtle blade simply by trade, and to use the skills on flesh rather than purses was second nature, especially on those that would use the commoners as pawns and bartering chips. Her light brown eyes lit up as Jonas began his tale.
"Ah yes, the twin queens, Latika and Keldra. More mirror images than twins, one would say. One is the image of a benevolent leader of people, the other an arrogant, hard woman with no remorse for those that are weak in her eyes. But they rule together, and seem to never argue or disagree." Jonas paused to take a reflective breath, and continued. He spun the tale of their rise to power, of how they were only young mercenaries when they fought in their first major battle, and how they rose through the ranks quickly and became the most feared entited in the east. And then of their change to royalty, establishing themselves as a single face for their diplomatic sessions. And now as war leaders, defiantly fighting against those known as ethereals and keeping the peace of their kingdom safe. All the while not even being considered the required age for royalty, Latika, the elder, only being of 28 years.
Jonas looked to Sena, having lost himself in the tale, and smiled softly to see her sleeping peacefully in the soft sunlight leaned against the wagon's upright board. Jonas stood sightly, and sat back down, rousing Sena gently. She responded by snatching his arm up in an awkward position, causing him to yell out in pain. Sena quickly relinquised the limb, apologizing as Jonas shook out the pain in his elbow. After being satisfied with the young woman's apologies, Jonas pointed forward, twoard a spot in the horizon, seemingly close in the rolling hills of the land they were in.
"Thats the watch post for Chabad, one mile out of town proper. We're almost there." Jonas offered insightfully, giving a glance to Sena at the end of his sentence.
"Its going to be nice to stretch my legs, how long are we going to stay?" She asked, half yawning.
"Tonight and tomorrow, leaving the morning after. Enough to get food and water for our trip to the twin cities."
Sena nodded, letting out a sigh and stepped back into the wagon, against stepping carefully as to not fall or get hit by the haphazzardly placed items in storage. She reached her makeshift bed, two blankets and a thin pillow made from hey, and began dressing herself for the stop. She strapped on a belt with two concealed daggers along the front, and put a leather harness resembling an 'X' across her chest, holding four more small daggers, and then a seemingly tight-fitting grey-brown waistcoat that conveniently lacked sleeves past the shoulder, revealing the short sleeves of her undershirt, and underneath the toned muscles of a fighter shown gracefully in her tan arms.
After the caravan had stopped, the drivers met and agreed upon the time and what was needed, Sena walked easily among those that she didn't know or was accustomed to, effortlessly cutting four rich purses along the way. After pleasing her klepto urges, she unassumingly walked into a tavern, and shrugged off the looks she brought to herself, some decent and others not quite. blending through the raucous crowd that occupied the hall, she listened to many conversations, some of the daily events, others of the recent meeting of the kingdoms the High King had announced so proudly, and others about the actions of the regent noble. By accounts, a fat and overbearing slob of a man that cared only for himself and bettering his image in the eyes of the High King. Sena took all of this and decided to talk to one of the more political minded of the patrons, a raving, loudmouthed mite of a smith. After some persuading and seduction, Sena learned where the noble lived, and everything she would want to know of him. Afer leaving the conversation abruptly, Sena left the tavern, and stalked siltently to the home of her target.
Sena looked into the windows to see the pig, eating a hearty dinner with his family of two, an equally disgusting wife and piglet of a son, no older than nine, who ate more greedily than his father. Sena spat in disgust at the display, and grunted as she climbed the wall of the two-storied home, determined in her self-appointed mission of malice. silently stalking, Sena whisked into the home through a door placed at the roof, and stared, death in her eyes, at the family of three as the noble told a story of no importance to his wife and child.
The story ended with a large extravagant crash that startled the son, who was quickly sent to bed, followed shortly by the noble's wife, who gave a promiscuous gesture at her husband as she walked quickly as her overburdened frame would let her up the stairs to the second story of the home. Sena moved swiftly and silently as the noble moved twoards the stairs after his wife had disappeared, only to feel a stinging pain in his neck before going numb, the vision of his world turning on its side and going dark his last memories before a pair of soft-soled feet stalked past up the stairs. Sena easily stalked into the upper bedroom, where the dead noble's wife laid on her side expectantly, back to the door. She too felt a sting before slowly closing her eyes and going to sleep.
Sena hardened her face, and squinted her eyes, a fleeting feeling of remorse washed through her as the son giggled and writhed around in his bed, obviously still entertained by the story the deceased pig had given to him. He was lucky to see the blow coming, a dark shadow whisking him up into a greater darkness, where he knew only peace.
She walked casually away from the home, a look of contemplation and concern on her face. She knew what she had done too well, but in her heart she knew that she was right, disposing of those that would dispose of others for their personal gain. Her only concern was that of what might happen to the caravan, would news come out before they left? Would she have to flee like she did earlier, from flashing steel and roaring guards, whistling arrows and the banter of the people who couldn't see the greater good, only themselves. Sena sighed and shook her head as she walked in the shadows, looking up at the beautiful night sky. she reflected, only a few short months ago she looked up at the same sky, exiled from what she called home, for the same action. Only this time it was more deliberate. She didn't know who he was, what he actually stood for, or wether or not the smith in the tavern was just drunk. However, she knew that the man sacrificed his people for himself, and that was reason enough to have his life in forfeit, as Sena saw it. As she reflected, Sena saw a shadow blur across the sky, from one rooftop to another. She tensed, and instantly gave chase to the rooftops, where she looked face to face with another shadow, its cloak subtly swaying in the breeze. She moved her hands slowly to her belt daggers, not sure what the shadow was going to do, but preparing in case it decided to strike.
the shadow didn;t move for a short while, then its head nodded slowly, then turned and disappeared in an alleyway below, without a trace. Sena retunred to the caravan, but dared not sleep after the confrontation with the shadow, her hands never leaving her hip.
"Something got you on edge, m'lady?" Jonas said after the caravan had left and was on the road with sarcasm on his educated voice.
"Just a feeling, Jonas." Sena answered passively, visibly relaxing and leaning against the wagon bed. "Something about new places, just gets me on edge."
"You need to travel more. Where you hang your hat is home, Sena. that is the law of the trail, nothing left behind, the world in fornt of you."
Sena let out a long, drawn-out sigh, thinking upon the wizedene words she listened to. "Your right, nothing behind, everything ahead. Begin anew wherever you go."
And so she slept there, still on edge, but at peace with herself and her surroundings, wanting to believe the words she spoke.
Sena awoke some time later, a bitter chill nipping at her face and shoulders. She curled up quickly to find Jonas had wrapped her in his poncho while she slept. She tightened the thick cloth around her as she took in the landscape around her. Flat, rolling hills, covered in rock and sand, and wiry bushes dominating the vegetation of the area. The high desert night cast an eerie and pure silver-blue hue over the land, while the desert winds blew crisply, sweeping the wire bushes side to side in a graceful dance over the rugged, harsh land that Sena found herself in.
She looked then to Jonas, who sat vigilant at the head of the wagon, wearing a thick brown overcoat. He looked casually over his shoulder to see Sena awake.
"Evening. I was beginning to wonder when you would wake from the cold."
"Not too s-soon" Sena gritted out, trying to control her muscles as they tried to shiver.
"We're almost to Wire Mountian, border of the unified state. When we get there we'll bed down and open trade for a few days."
"G-good, Its too cold to be travelling like th-this" Sena said, remarking at her normal sleeveless jherkin that served her well in the balmy days in the capital city.
"This is nothing, just a normal desert night. Winter brings the howling wind and rain to these beautiful evenings." Jonas said, looking longingly at the night landscape. Sena followed suit, the silver sheen giving everything a ghostly, ethereal quality. the intangible beauty as striking as it was barren.
"I know of Jersin, and the Twin Queens, but what of the west? Is it as wild and untamed as the stories I hear?"
"No, not anymore. The mountians of the west were untamed and wild, but now a single orc has risen above the rabble of his kin and made something of the race. Gralkrek the Untamed was the name I heard last I ventured far enough west. He unified all the Orc tribes and clans into one and now he calls the entire region his land. Needless to say, I haven't travelled west in quite some time. I much prefer the eastern routes. Although the Ethereals are nothing to scoff at, I find a legion of organized orcs a little bit more intimidating." Jonas allowed himself an honest laugh, making light of the situation of the known world.
"I would too, if I had even seen either of them." Sena looked down, as if disheartened.
"Don't drop your head, we're almost to the outermost guard post. Civilization is in sight!" Jonas exclaimed halfheartedly, trying to cheer Sena up in the ghostly scene.
She looked up at the entrenched battle position that held the guard post. It looked battle-ready as a shadow, Sena was curious to see just how hardened a war with creatures that weren't quite there could make a society.
---
War-Commander Gralkrek stood atop the stone at the head of his massive formation. The mighty first legion of his fearsome army. They stood in perfect columns and rows, unmoving and stoic. This was no disorganized mess of orcs with weapons, this was the disciplined first legion, the front line of War-Commander Gralkrek's war machine. Under the iron-fisted command of General Lotren, the first legion had bested all those they had come across. But now they were about to face their first true challenge - the massive hordes and magical leaders of High King Jersin.
"The weak humans think that they can intimidate us! That their vast empires can strike fear in the heart of an Orc! That they would even think they could get us to surrender - without even raising a sword. This is our moment! We will strike fear into the hearts of the weak, and cull them from this world!" Gralkrek raised his arms to a massive roar of animalistic rage, feeding off the energy he had inspired from his warriors. He then cut his arms down, and instantly there was silence. He looked over the formation carefully, slowly. his shoulders raising and his back straightening with every passing second, pride and confidence visibly filling him as the warriors he banded together stood proud, ready to fight and die in the name of their ancestors and brothers.
"TO WAR!"
__________________________
Earlier than expected, enjoy.
edit: Fix't!
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: KaFKa on 2008-03-22 03:09 ]</font>
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