Author Topic: Cirocco's Old Writings  (Read 2325 times)

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Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Cirocco's Old Writings
« on: March 27, 2012, 04:03:17 am »
Here are old ideas and the like that I've never edited. A lot of them are ideas born from starting with a single sentences, others are from a far different source of inspiration. I will include the date I wrote them, and a little about each of them in introduction before posting them.

I am of course open to critique, compliments, or your absolute need to magnify your own ego by exploiting any supposed lack of talent or ability in comparison to your own unused greatness. In other words - thank you now for kind words, honest assessment, and if you wish to blow smoke you'll just be ignored.

Now as for why I am posting them? I told another member here I would dig though my computer for older works I've created - ergo here we are now. Enjoy. On another note - I will be posting each excerpt as its own post, mostly to cut down the size of this single intro post. If anyone minds, I apologize for it in advance, it was either that or I post a thread for each one and this seemed the more organized route. :)
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #1 on: March 27, 2012, 04:03:33 am »
This one I wrote one day out of boredom - scribed it into an old notebook I used to have and sometime later transferred it to my computer. So I don't have the exact date I wrote it, only the day I copied it onto my PC. It never became anything other then a brief idea - a description of an event never explained or expanded upon.

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Cold - 2010

   A wisp of a cloud darted across a pale moon, a man below drug himself past the shimmering waters of a lake. His body ragged, and his face torn and bloodied. His mind raced as his heart seemed to be beating its own end.

   He staggered along, aches and pains shooting through the course of his body as each step took more and more effort, taking their toll on this already broken shell of a man.

   His breath rolled out in a puff of white vapor, a chill was sent to his very bones. His eyes darted the wood line, peering through the darkness, trying to find some form of shelter, someway to keep warm.

   His body heaved and finally collapsed onto the cold earth below him. He dug his hands into the soft damp soil, and let out one final gasp of air, as he gave himself into despair, realizing that this truly was to be his end.

   He had come so far to fail now. Of all times to fail, just when it mattered most, he had to come to an end of his luck. He couldn't remember a time when he needed to get up so badly, a time when he had to keep going, nor a time when it was this important he not surrender. But here he was, already surrendering to the oppressive, shallow cold and darkness around him.

   It was than that he first thought he heard it. Singing... soft sweet singing. He couldn't believe it at first, but their it was again, looming closer to him. He tried to get up, tried to stand, but he could not.

   He tried to call out, but his voice was so cold and thin he could barely utter a sound. He smiled in the end, at least glad that he could hear something so beautiful, so pure, so sweet before he died. It was a most strange song though, no words; yet he knew that no instrument could make such a clean and crisp melody. It was as if the very forest itself were alive with the music.

   He knew it was midwinter, but to his surprise it began to smell like spring. He could pick out many different kind of forest flowers and sweet smelling mushrooms that only blossomed and bloomed in the spring. He knew than, that he had gone mad.

   His strength had long left him, as the cold seem to close around him, in a tight choking blanket. He could have sworn that he felt the very fingers of death prick at his skin. Digging their way down into him, drawing the last vestiges of warmth from his body.

   Wrapping its foul fetid hands around his spine, moving to choke his heart... to frost his lungs robbing him of breath, of warmth... of life.

   He let out a long quiet sigh, as he prepared himself to be taken by the release of death from his already frigid torment. His body was near-to giving up on clinging to life, as the cold pressed around him. He let his eyes close slowly as his body seemed to slump further down into a disheveled mess. His very existence and being seemed filled with a longing and sorrow. Though he found himself having a harder, and harder time caring about anything. He was so tired all of sudden, and with each moment he grew more and more weary. All he wanted to do now was sleep, sleep and let death come for him, and rob him of his dreams... Of life.

   He let out one last horrid sigh, as his body failed, each part of him beginning to shut down one by one, as his mind gave into the despair that now gripped his ever still heart, like an ever tightening vice, the cold closed in around him, stealing away the last bit of warmth his body clung to, leaving only a dull empty numbness that enveloped and washed over him.

   He awoke many hours later, a warm fire cast a glow over his body, and he found that he had been wrapped in a great deal of warm furs. His body still ached, but the pain was greatly diminished from the ordeal of suffering that he had recently incurred the other night.

   As his vision cleared he made out the slender shape of a young girl. Her hair was a fiery red with pink highlights, kept short and neat, she sat across from him huddling close to the fire. Her arms were stretched about her legs, her skin a light olive tan. She wore a thick winter coat, opened just enough to let the fire dance across her legs. She seemed lost in the flickering firelight, which danced across her skin like the misted moon over a gentle river.

   What caught his attention next took him entirely by surprise, for standing next to her was a hulking creature with amber skin. It stood at least eight feet tall, while it was hunched over, its arms dragging near-to the ground. Most of its size was in its long slender legs that connected awkwardly, as the creature’s waist was much thinner then its thighs. Its body went up a ways, amber and thin, till it reached its ribcage, which jutted out in a way peculiar for the width of its waist.

   The creature, almost resembled an amber skeleton, with deep haunting eyes the very color of the mist covered moon above. Whatever this creature was, its movements were slow and precise, almost as if it were a practiced dancer going through a familiar routine. It held an air of seeming grace, every action it took a reflection of the beauty and sorrow reflected in its eyes.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #2 on: March 27, 2012, 04:06:14 am »
This next one came to me in a daydream. Out of all the things I've written I have NEVER once decided if I liked this piece; hell I'm not sure if it is good, bad, or not worth noting; it out of everything might just be the one thing I am the most unsure of. I suppose a lot of it might come from the fact that I did the speech differently then anything else I'd ever written - a small detail but it does make it an enigma amongst my writing.

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Fly - 2007

   High above the tallest peaks where the air is thin, rising from the clouds, green and golden scales broke forth like a writhing, slithering mountain. A great head followed through the breach, and with a thunderous cry, that was returned twice over as two more great winged beasts broke free of the cloud barrier beneath, like giant serpents their bodies entwined in a beautiful dance.

   A child’s laugh, innocent and pure, followed next seeming to chase after the great creatures. Rising high above the clouds came the deck of wooden ship, a pair of children standing upon its bow.

   The girls face, was framed beautifully by amber hair that hung just past her, shone with an innocence that reflected perfectly in her deep sea green eyes. The boys face was somewhere between a mix of excitement and wonder, caught perfectly in the reflection of his eyes, that were as blue as the very sky itself.

   One of the serpents dove straight across the bow of their vessel, creating a great wind that swept the girls shoulder length hair back and ruffled the others short spiky blue, almost raven black, hair.

"Galvin?

"... ... ..."

"Galvin?"

"Yes, Kailani?"

"Is this what heaven's like?"

"I don't know."

   The girl climbed the railing of the vessel, swinging her legs over, so that she might sit and enjoy this wondrous new world.

   The boy leaned on the rail beside her, his eyes staring upwards at the glittering heavens above, and back down to the sea of clouds that the ship cut through leaving a wispy trail behind them.

   The dancing creatures formed a heart at their heads, and twisted once more closer then before, around each other before they dove back down their long bodies surrounding the ship, fluttering the girls dress, and the boys frock.

   He smiled, the corner of his lips coming to the point of the blue triangular marks on his cheeks, as he gazed up at the girl who seemed to have an aura that seemed to be outshining all the stars above.

   She smiled back at him, as one of the great creatures flew just over head, both their hands reaching up, gently dragging fingers across its golden underbelly.

   "Galvin... why did it hurt so much to get here?" she spoke, her voice barley a whisper, to which the only reply was the wind.

   "Its not fair," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek "This was their dream to. What makes us so special that only we get to experience it?" Again only the wind replied to her.

   She choked up for a moment, before she continued, sobs racking her body "Why did they have to die? Why did we survive to make it this far, and not them? Its not fair! Its not fair that they couldn't see this... that they couldn't live their dreams..."

   He turned to look at her, his aura growing dark as he spoke, "Life isn't fair. Nowhere is it written that life is fair. They, our friends, died for this dream. We, as survivors, have the duty to carry on their wishes." he thrust his arms apart, letting the wind catch him, almost as if he was trying to fly away "Cry for them... spread your tears to the wind! But open your eyes, see the wonder they sought, but died before they could witness. We owe it to them to remember every moment of this, and their lives!"

   She smiled at him almost as if she could sense the black veil that lifted from his aura, from his heart, as he spoke.

"Galvin..."

"Yes, Kailani?"

"Galvin... hold me."

"Yes, Kailani."

   The three winged serpents, whose scales were as varied as their personalities, floated about a moment longer, before coming to fly along either side of the vessel with one left to lead.

   The girl rushed to the starboard side, leaning far over the railing as she reached for the serpent. She reached as far as she could, but found it always out of reach.

   She climbed through the railing, grasping the pole with one hand, as she leaned out past the windbreakers. In her heart she knew she had to touch, she had to feel its crimson and amber scales, so she leaned ever farther out.

   It was then that a gust of wind caught her, pulling her loose from the pole that she so tightly held to. She let out a gasp, as time seemed to stand still, as her life flashed before her very eyes. It was in the next instant she snapped back to reality, a strong hand holding onto her wrist tightly.

   She glanced over her shoulder but already knew what happened. Galvin stood, one leg wrapped in between the bars, the other used as a brace on the deck, as he kept the wind from pulling her free of the ship.

   She looked deeply into his eyes, searching for something, some sign of recognition. After a moment she turned away and with his help she touched the creatures scales. They were warm and soft like the flesh of a lover trapped in a tender embrace.

   After he pulled her back onto the ships deck she wrapped her arms around his neck, picking her feet up, and just clung to him. He was taken aback for a moment, but soon had her trapped in such an embrace as this world had ever seen.

   She smiled as it ended, and with his help leaned far over the other side, to touch the second serpents silver and sapphire scales. They were wet and slick to the touch, coated in what seemed to be the morning dew.

   He pulled her back onto the ship, and they went back to the bow of the vessel to enjoy the sights of all this new world had to offer, this piece of heaven.

"Kailani?"

"Yes, Galvin?"

"Kailani... do you trust me?"

"With everything I have, and everything I am."

"Kailani... take my hand."

"Yes, Galvin."

   Hand in hand they both climbed the railing at the bow of the ship. They stood teetering on the edge, the wind swaying them back and forth.

   "Trust in me, and what you can see," he whispered, his words lost to all but her ears "take my hand, and I will set you free."

   She smiled, her eyes closing tightly, as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze "I trust you..."

   With her hand held tight he leapt from the bow, at an angle to avoid impacting the ship, and fell far below into the sea of clouds a smile parting his lips as they plummeted far below.

   White clouds seemed to part as they came into contact with them, an ocean of sky surrounded them, voices above lost to the wind, lost from their hearts as they fell. Fell together, in each others arms, their own serpentine dance they twirled as they fell.

"Open your eyes Kailani."

"Yes, Galvin."

"... ... ..."

"Galvin... I love you..."

"I know Kailani. I love you too."

   He gently wrapped his arms about her waist, a smile parting his thin lips, as the earth below began to take shape.

   She turned to look at him a smile across her face, her eyes shone with true bliss, as she whispered "I trust you..."

   In the next instant he let out a thunderous roar, which was met by the three great serpents above, as two leather black wings, their underside a deep purple, shredded through his frock.

   He gave a mighty push upwards, his wings beating furiously like a heart thumping its own end, and went spiraling upwards back towards the heavens.

   She spread her arms wide an innocent smile across her face, her mind lost in pure ecstasy, as they sailed back upwards once more to that new world.

   For the first time in his life, he was greeted as an equal by the elegant serpents. A tear rolled down his cheek, for he had just won the acceptance he had tried all his life to earn. He had earned his place with his kind, the right to go home.

   He looked down at her, carried gently in his arms, and with a smile he turned and landed back upon the deck of the vessel. He finally realized that all he ever wanted, a home to call his own, he had all along. All he had to do was open his eyes.

"Kailani..."

"Yes... Galvin?"

"Lets go home."

"Yes... yes lets..."
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #3 on: March 27, 2012, 04:09:00 am »
I wrote this during a dark period of my life - if you must have the details, you can ask me via PM. As for what it is; that is also hard to explain, however as I wrote it I am throwing it out there for the world to devour. On a note this one HAS been edited - I fixed the typo in the word despair just now.

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Untitled - 2006

To he who sits idly on an ivory throne cloaked in darkness around, I beckon to you come! The fourth horsemen, upon the pale horse, I beckon to you come!

He who holds sway over the very fabric of creation, I beckon to you come! He the bringer of despair and peace, he who is the guide down the final road of life, I beckon to you come!
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #4 on: March 27, 2012, 04:15:49 am »
Now the following is a little bit more complex - they were all saved in one computer file, though they were all written at different times. They are journal entries of sorts; before you ask, no I don't suffer from MPD and yes I know all the names are different. There is an explanation behind that, though that might make me sound even crazier. :P

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A sword that holds no edge and impossible to sharpen is herald by some to be the ultimate weapon. This blade is both an awesome force, and a terrible curse. Those who wield it must give to it an offering of their own blood, before each battle. A tiny pin prick gives the blade a razor edge. With each drop of blood spilt by the blade grants to its keeper strength and near instant rejuvenation. This comes at a terrible cost, for the blade slowly feeds upon the wielder, it is a parasite. The blade is appeased with blood, and its so called master gains an addiction to it. To sustain oneself, you must also appease the blade. One is forced to kill to keep themselves alive. Though the blade could slay an army with ease, the cost is great, for the cost is yourself. So let this be known, for all who may find this letter, and this forsaken blade. I have not the strength or the will to cast this blade into some deep crevice. May you find the power to do what I could not.

Adrius Mordran
3rd son of lord Adran,
Sovereign of Kalisnor, father of Adrimis, heir to my possessions
~The sword is cursed, it is our legacy, Adrimis it is now yours, do with it what you will~

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There all dead, everyone is dead. The darkness came and robbed them of life. That shadow that blackened curse has claimed them. I know not what malicious evil has created this nightmare. It consumes the light, this darkness that cannot be stopped. No blade can pierce it, for it is as intangible as air. No spell can destroy it, for it is evil, pure unrefined evil. No light can hinder it, for it is stronger. Clicking, I hear it, the tapping… that god awful sound. It comes, it approaches. I am dead; there is no hope for me. May those who find this fare better than I. The Shadow comes.

Badrin Morrfire

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I am blind, but I see that which you cannot perceive. I am deaf but I have heard the sounds of suffering. I cannot feel, but I have still felt the cold prick of Death against my skin. Know this my students, though I have never heard your voice, or seen your face, I know you all by the heart. I am going to pass from this world, tonight. I shall not suffer long. Please do not blame yourselves. I have known this day was to come, since first we met. You’re going to do this, but you will regret it. Do not judge yourself so harshly. It is not yours, or anyone’s fault. My death shall simply begin your journey. I ask your fellow students not to pass judgment on you, for it is not your fault. It is destiny, follow it, become it.

Kel’This
The last known words of a Wiseman

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I am the immortal Talis, archangel of the high heavens. I have no soul to speak of. I was created, not so long ago. The elders made me, for a task no other was willing to do. My true purpose is unknown, but I know I am tired to the Watcher. Not to his charge, the Sleeper or the Dreamer, just to the Watcher. The elders do not speak of the task for which I was created, stead they have me do menial tasks. I wish to know why I was created, as to what my true purpose is.


Talis

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Awaiting the sunrise, I sat upon the Aviary, overlooking the calm and quiet sea. Upon the rocks below the sea crashed into frothing foam. The taste of the salty sea air was strange against my lips. I watched with ever patience for the first rays of the sun to peer over the calm clear sea. As the sun began its rise, I saw the sea and sky alike; soften into hues of gold and pink. Deep sea green burned softly of amber light. The few passing clouds were aflame wit orange and gold. The horizon was a surreal pink. I wept, not for my wounds, or my murdered love, not for my missing half, but for the beauty of this sunrise. I was human again, I was myself and… I was alone, more now then every before

Kyle

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My eyes burn with hate, my soul is twisted with the perversions of sorrow. I am defined not by who I love, but by who my desires seek to make suffer. Everyone who exists in this world disgusts me, the people, the animals; everything in this world makes me sick. I was made to suffer, yet nobody gave a damn. My pain was ignored, and I was left to die. I didn’t die; I’m stronger because of this tragedy. I now am ready to get my revenge. They will all suffer… beware thee who finds this, for I come.

~Marlinis~

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I am forever walking, afraid to look back… Fearful of past mistakes, afraid to see the demon burning inside. Beneath its pale red skin, reflected deep within its hollow eyes is myself.  I hurried as quickly as I could, down this “tour” of my past sins. I endured every moment of my horrific edification. It became clear to me; I could no more evade the transgressions of my past mistakes. I then, in the hope of my own salvation, turned to face the past, all I found was my own demon… it smiled at me. I knew then I was cursed.

~Wesley~

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My blood ran cold, as the freezing winds chilled me to the very marrow of my bones. I could do not but stare ahead, as the white plains of snow that had stretched so endlessly ahead gave way to a field of blood.  The broken remains of arms, armor and bodies littered for yards around. A thousand or more broken discarded remains of what was once the proud Frostsharian’s Imperial Army. The twisted and desecrated remains of their bodies stretched near as far as I could see. Never in my worst nightmares could I have imagined such a horrific depravity of life. Bodies left to rot slowly under the artic sun. I did the only thing I could… I gathered the bodies of the Frostlings and I set them ablaze. A giant funeral pure, the greatest honor for their kind. I said a silent prayer for the departed, and left once the last of the embers faded and died.

Leon Ehome
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #5 on: March 27, 2012, 04:19:59 am »
Like the above, this is a collection that was saved under one file for one reason or another. A much shorter list this time, so at least that is something to be thankful for - yes?

Also on a special note - the first one listed here is a personal favorite of mine. I'm not really one to take credit for it, yet I am insanely proud of what I brought to paper one day.

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An ill wind forever blows down the streets of Duskroot, City of the Damned. Evil walks its unhallowed streets, evil dwells in its darkened halls… for all who call the city of Duskroot home, are neither alive nor dead. Half human and less, home is Duskroot, to ghouls. Home it be to vampires and the undead. There evil touch is half felt in the land… but in Duskroot evil is personified, for the dead prowl ever more, and forever in time, the streets of Duskroot City of the Damned… City of Death… where the light that is the world, never shines… upon the streets of Duskroot City of the Damned.

~Exert from the Black Book~

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He who sees to seek the stone of heavenly might, shall do so at the cost of ones own soul The light that shines forever bright from the Ivory halls, shall heed not the call of man or beast, save to wash the land in its glory. Those who would seek it , be men of evil… for no man whose glory be good ever need see it to know its power

~Exert from the tome of Lost Secrets~

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I am older then the stars in the sky. I was here before their was even nothing. There was my conscious and t predated the nothing. And then somewhere before even time, death came, and created the Void of Death, Then life came, I know not when though, for time did not come till the first thing in the void was breathed to life. Life, Death, and Time existed for eons, before they realized my presence. They wrapped me in an immortal husk, and placed me on their favored world. My conscious still stretches through the cosmos, and I have seen the birth of many races. So I write this book, the book of Origins, to reveal some of the mystery of the shadowed past

The First One
~Exert from the Book of Origins~
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #6 on: March 27, 2012, 04:22:26 am »
This is another bit of writing I did a few years back - it was somewhat of an introduction post to something that again, never went anywhere. Have at it.

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Journal Entry - 2006

In a place forgotten by time and destiny, amongst rotted skulls and broken dreams, dwells an ancient and terrible force. It is pure and utter madness that drive men to delve deep into the depths of the earth... far beyond the twisted tunnels of the great dark... buried farther and deeper then even hope can go. It is truly only madness that could carry a man so far beyond the light, beyond reason... to where silence prevails, and life cannot exist.

Here, in the deepest parts of the earths recess, exists such a force terrible in all its glory, the power to sunder the world stirs anew... consuming all those foolish enough to delve so deeply into the earth. A hunger that cannot satiated by blood or flesh, for only fury can truly drive such power. Here twisting and winding down darkened halls of ancient structures, buried and forgotten by all but the most learned men... and only sought by those so foolish as to seek the very breath of hell.

Locked deep within the earth this power dwells, forbidden from man, angel and hell kind alike, it waits... hungering. What could create such a being of malice? Of intangible hate? What could drive such a macabre creation...? That answer has escaped me for decades... and for centuries I shall seek to plum the very depths of this madness. But even I... find this to be taxing... to be a near impossibility, to expose myself to this... entity. Someday... I shall unlock the secrets of that place... of the birthing chambers... the secrets... to existence.

Exert from the 12th Tomb of Research by: Talos Arcnum ~ The Immortal Necromancer
« Last Edit: March 27, 2012, 04:24:44 am by Cirocco the Silver Fox »
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #7 on: March 27, 2012, 04:27:24 am »
This one is another unnamed piece of writing, that I really did mean to sit down and make a story or something out of. Again, it went nowhere and never saw more then a few short paragraphs.

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Unnamed - 2007

Brought to ink and paper, here shall begin the tale of one man, whose legacy is as far reaching as the heavens themselves. For this one man, touched the lives of many, revived a dying empire, awakened a guardian from its slumber, without ever meaning to be so important.

This man, this one man has left a mark upon this world, and all in it. Doing a service to all so extensive in its reach, that it has become a debt that cannot be repaid by any means.

I tell you now, this story of this man… this man unknown in his birth or name who came to us, in a time of the greatest peril. When the world was shaken, and the bonds of old began to crumble… he came, and with a fury divine, and a love never-ending, he chose to fight for this worlds right to exist.

~Marr Si’Lynnis~
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #8 on: March 27, 2012, 04:29:32 am »
I vaguely remember this; I believe I wrote it as part of a writing game I had going on another forum.

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West Wind - 2007

I drew my hood tighter about me, as I crested the top of the dune, my gaze drifting over the seemingly unbroken and endless sea of sand, each rising and falling infinitely together.

I had been walking for sometime now, I could not say for how long, for here in the desert the passage of time becomes meaningless as the unrelenting sun pours down upon you, and the nights chill the very marrow of your bones.

I stood upon this dune, listening to the whisper of the west wind, which seemed to carry my thoughts far to the east… back to my home, and the family I had left so many years ago. I squared my shoulders, made up my mind that I could not return, not without assuring my children would be safe; so onward I continued through the desert… walking unendingly through this Endless Sand.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #9 on: March 27, 2012, 04:33:30 am »
Now here is something semi-special, not because it is fantastic or excellent but in the fact that this was really meant to go somewhere. Somewhere in the early stages of writing it my "writers block" drove me from the project though.

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Eternity Saga - 2006

The sky will be as pitch, as the Harbinger crosses the Void of Death. From a great vortex that splits the heavens shall come a citadel of rock and stone, From here the Harbinger shall endeavor to create a world fit for a new age of darkness. Upon the circle of old shall be drawn the powers of Eternity, to decay and corrupt the Force of Creation.

A light in the darkness, a glimmer of hope, there can be found in the form of the Seven Children of Eternity, whose power could realign the misguided energies of Creation, setting right what the Harbinger seeks to lead astray.

~Ancient Prophecy of Velin~

Light streamed through the windows of Velin’s High Temple, shining down into the chapel and halls, driving away all but the last vestiges of shadows hiding in the far corners, almost as if it were trying to breech the floor boards, and illuminate the murky depths of the catacombs beneath.

   Through a brightly painted window, a mosaic of two knights battling the minions of hell, the light shone upon the faces of young man and a boy, sleeping peacefully in worn cots on the floor. The older of the two sat up, his face young and soft, as he yawned brushing a coil of his short blonde hair out of his face. He smiled as he glanced over at the boy sleeping next to him, his soft brown eyes staring fondly at the sleeping form next to him. He gently touched the boys cheek, before moving to touch the boys long black hair, “You’ve always looked so angelic when you sleep…” he whispered serenely

   The boy gently tightened his grip around his pillow, his face innocent and pure as he smiled lightly to the familiar touch, letting out a content sigh as the older one began to shake him gently, whispering softly “Its time to wake up Braden, morning has come.”

   Braden sleepily rolled over, mumbling somewhere between sleep and awake “Just a few more minutes Thomas…” nestled his head into Thomas’s lap and fell into a deep relaxed sleep, as Thomas gently ran his fingers through Braden’s hair.

   Thomas smiled lightly, unaware of the drama playing out in the Arch-Bishops chamber, as men argued and voices were raised disturbing the tranquil aura that had long enveloped this place.

   The tension was evident in the air like a stagnated cloud, as the Arch Bishop and the other clergy argued furiously over just how to interpret the events that had transpired over the past few days, especially what had occurred just last night.

After a few hours there came a light tapping on their chamber door, and a voice that sounded even younger then them “Excuse me sirs,” the voice said from the other side of the shut door “but your audience has been requested in the Arch Bishops chamber, Thomas.”

Thomas slowly rose to his feet, and after dressing himself in his ceremonial robe, he pushed open the chamber door “Thank you, Mavri” he said to the boy before turning to face Braden “Now I’ll be back soon okay?”

Braden nodded and responded that he’d keep himself busy until his return.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #10 on: March 27, 2012, 04:37:26 am »
And here is another semi-special project as well. Again only because it was supposed to go somewhere.

Quote
The Hunter - 2006

Chapter I: A Chance Encounter

Every muscle in her body was taught; it felt as if her entire nervous system was set on fire. Her eyes darted back and forth from each tree, shrub and rock. She couldn’t see her foe, nor could she see her companion either. She started to wonder if she was truly alone, and for a split second her body relaxed, and it was in that instant it sprung.
Claws outstretched as the half bird, Shi’Goulm as the locals called it, prepared to sink its claws into her shoulders, its razor beak would set next upon her neck, to crush her spine with a single snap of its powerful jaws. She stumbled back, her mouth gaping to scream, but no sound came out.
“Why didn’t I ever tell him?” she thought as her life flashed before her eyes “its all-pointless now.”
Tears began forming in her eyes, to realize that she had missed her chance. It was than that she heard a clear voice ring out from the canopy above, a voice that carried all the softness of the wind, but the firmness of the very living rock. Angelic yet fearsome, sweet but terrifying, his voice carried all the wonders and terrors possible from mortal lips.
“Get away from her,” the voice said from above “you wretched beast!”
The beast stopped for a split second to glance upwards, only to see two blades sinking into its shoulders, and flung it a ways into a tree. The man spun on his heels, leaping forward at it in a charge, letting his blades lead the way.
They flew from his hands and stuck it in its arms, grabbing a crossbow from beneath his long brown coat, firing a single bolt straight through the center of its head. Blood dripping down its beak and chest to pool at its feet, the bolt pinning its head to the base of the tree, as the man made his way slowly over to it.
Placing his heavy brown boot to its chest, he ripped both blades out with hardly a sound as he turned to face the woman, “You need to be more careful,” he said with a sigh, “or you’ll end up as chicken feed.”
He walked past her without so much as a casual glance, leaving her to help herself up. “Damn it why do I care for him?” she mused to herself “He seems so heartless… so cold. Yet I know there is more there… a part of him that wishes to open up, and show his heart. All of his love and pain that is inside him.”
She staggered to her feet swaying slightly, as if a gentle breeze would threaten to knock her over, as she reached for a nearby rock to support her. She misjudged the distance slightly and lost her balance, she gasped slightly her eyes going wide, as she knew that she was going to hit the rock.
In one instant she was falling, and as if some twist of fate she noticed her left temple was aimed directly for the blunt of the impact, and in the next she was enveloped in a strong and gentle embrace. She glanced up to see his face looking down at her, a soft smile across his face. So pure so, soft was his expression, but his face seemed to be hardened by hate and scorn for some undeserved misgiving years ago.
She smiled back at him, bringing her face close to his, as he softly pressed his lips to hers. His hands pressing her up further, deepening the kiss considerably, and she could have sworn she heard the sounds of angels singing a chorus of love. She could feel all of his energy flowing deeply into her, filling her body full of warmth, causing her nerves to tingle, gaining that fiery sensation, in a good way, again. But she could feel something else… something fouler, almost sinister as well. Something cold that nipped at her heart. Almost as if he was pouring a little bit of the negative energy that made him cold to her, into her.
“That’s it,” she thought, “its this negative shroud that makes him so cold. For him to be happy… even for a moment, he passes a little on to another… oh I wish I could take it all from him.”
His hands slid up beneath her shirt, pressed to the warm skin of her back, breaking the kiss as he smiled at her, gently nuzzling into her neck, her arms finding there way around his.
There eyes met, and stayed locked, a sort of mutual expression of desire, lust, love, compassion… and a deep burning passion that needed to be filled as they had just a few times in the seven years they’d been traveling together.
He scooped her up into his arms, his hands still pressing against her skin. He carefully and slowly picked his way through the brush, seeking a quiet place of refuge.
He found his way to a quiet riverbank, as he laid her against the soft grass, kneeling next to her. His hands found there way under her crap, gently caressing her stomach, a soft smile spreading across his lips.
Her nerves were set a fire, as her body began to tingle with excitement and anticipation. She longed for him, just as much as she knew he longed for her.
She let out a slight gasp, as his hands inched slowly up her stomach, a tinge of delight passed though her, as his hand pressed in between her breasts.
He rested his hand on her chest, his fingers curved to feel her heartbeat. He brought his other hand to caress her cheek, as he leaned down to kiss her lips softly, she smiled slightly as she returned it.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hand sliding back down her chest, to gently rest upon her stomach. His thumb gently massaged just at the center of her belt line, as she pulled him closer to her.
The look of love, and sorrow trapped in his eyes, made her melt. Little did she realize, is that the smile that spreads across her lips, made him melt even more than his eyes did to her.
“This is the one”, she thought to herself, as he slowly leaned down to kiss her again “he really is.”
It was in the next instant that he pushed her aside, sending her rolling across the grass as another Shi’Goulm snapped down at where they had been lying, its powerful jaws snapping up a mouthful of grass and dirt.
Rolling quickly to his feet, he unsheathed his daggers, the blades seeming to be mini-falchions, and striking the first one to the beasts neck, the other being thrust at a downwards angle into its spine. Turning deftly on his heels he ripped the blades from the creature and booted its corpse into the stream.
“Hmm”, the man mused out loud more to himself than anyone, “This is most strange. These creatures cannot stand sunlight.” He stopped for a moment to dust himself off “Damn it. I was hoping to attract the conjurer, not the beast.”
“Wait a second Hunter”, she stammered as she furrowed her brows “you mean you knew this thing was going to attack?”
He nodded and gave a simple yes in response, to her dismay and shock.
“W-what about us?” she snapped defensively “About what we’ve shared… doesn’t that matter?
“It never mattered.” The Hunter replied, and she tried to give a response but he cut her off as he continued “Its all predators and prey. You either hunt or are hunted. Kill to survive. That’s the way this world works. What we’ve shared? That’s all animalistic. Any of the higher animals, even humans, require companionship. They seek emotional security in another of their species. That’s what we’ve shared. Just an animalistic, instinctive, and emotional attachment and expression for the sake of our mental state, its just nature’s way of keeping us sane, that’s all, is that a problem?”
She shut her eyes for a moment, and stifled a sigh from her heart. A deep and sorrowful sigh, the sound of a dieing heart. She drew back her arm and swung it towards his face, a look of betrayal and hurt in her eyes. The Hunter easily caught her fist in his strong hand with a sickening grin across his face as he spoke “So tell me, still in the mood. That instinct still burns within me.”
She pulled back away from him and turned and ran randomly into the woods, her eyes stinging with tears as she went. Not caring where she was going or who she ran into. All that mattered was getting away from him. As she ran her thoughts raced, filled with pain
“How? How could I have been so blind and stupid?”
She ran, and ran until her lungs burned, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst. She dropped to her knees and cried. She heard a twig snap, and she knew that it wasn’t him. He never made a sound… something else was behind her now. She turned to face a large man, a heavy sagging scar across his left eye, and he gave a big open toothed grin. “Hey pretty lady.” he said with a sickening glee in his eyes “You know little girls shouldn’t be out in the woods alone. There are bad men who do bad things to cute little girls like you.
She leapt to her feet in an attempt to flee, but he moved with a speed that denied his size and deformities. “Where ya’ goin’ little girl?” he sneered as he spoke “Ya’ gonna give papa a good time, for a long time, till papa gets tired of you, and than papas going to eat you. For real.”
He started to stoop down to kiss her, as his hands began to slide up her front to her breasts, his gnarled and twisted hands, sweaty and foul against the skin of her stomach.
There was a sudden clicking sound, and someone spoke from behind her with a voice soft and smooth, almost like the sound of a finely tuned crystal being struck with precise care and timing, “Now that isn’t very gentlemanly of you.”
“Back off little man,” the deformed one growled, “you don’t know who your messing with.”
“Oh contraire’”, the other replied, “You’re a fiend. A long ways from where you belong, but a fiend non-thee less.
The man stepped back, letting her fall from his grasp for a moment, as the hammer was released, striking the back of the revolver, sending a single bullet flying out, piercing his left shoulder. Two more shots were fired; striking his mid-section and his collarbone respectively. Three more shots were fired, one piercing the man in between his eyes the other blowing out the left side of his chin, and the final striking him squarely in the groin.
The stranger twirled the gun about and holstered it inside his long, dark brown duster, as he tipped his wide round brimmed hat to her “I hope he didn’t disturb you to much.” The stranger said, an accent that was an oddity in itself. “Fiends can be quiet pesky, though they aren’t native to this part of the world. Hmm… I’m not to sure what its here for, but it can’t be good.”
He helped her up, as she explained to him that she was okay now, and she was sorry for him having to waste so many bullets to save her. To which he chuckled in reply and told her that it wasn’t a problem. After all he had been hunting this one for a few weeks now, and that he was just happy he made it in time to save her.
It was than that The Hunter came strolling calmly up. As if nothing had happened, and there hadn’t been numerous gunshots just seconds before. He glanced at the man in the duster and with a nod said “Hello Vincent.”
A simple nod was all the man in the duster gave as a reply. “Feeling better, Kasha?” The Hunter asked quite snidely, “Or are you still not in the mood?”
“I could have been killed you bastard!” she screamed at him, “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead!”
To which The Hunter smiled and calmly said that he knew the old man was there. That he could feel that Vincent was there to. “Tell me, did you know what the old man was?” Vincent inquired.
The Hunter nodded in response, “Yes. Just some creep trying to get his kicks.”
Vincent smiled and nodded slowly, “He vas a Fiend, a Shagomin evil spirit, you blunderer. He is a long way from the homeland of the Shagomi, but still he was here. I do not know why.”
“What?” The Hunter gasped in amazement, “But that’s impossible. I thought he was only human, I had a feeling he was. I never felt out anything else. I’m never wrong; you should trust me on this one Vincent. He was only human.”
“That is why I do not trust them.” Vincent mused, “Arrogance breeds error. Arrogance is the mother of error, as vanity is its father. Your exuberant pride makes you a target for mistakes. Your lack of self-restraint regarding your confidence in your own abilities, in an ironic paradox, is both your greatest strength and weakness. The view of your own superiority lends you a type of ego-energy that protects and powers your course of actions. Though it tends to leave you rather reckless and rash, which in turn will be your downfall. I assure you.”
“Listen preacher”, The Hunter hissed out, “I don’t need you to tell me about what I can do, or what I can’t. Fact of the matter is, my power hasn’t been wrong so far. It lead me to her didn’t it? She has the gift. As powerful as I was, before… well that’s not your concern. I kept her around seven years for the sake of protecting her. Predators and prey. She’s the prey, and I have to keep the wolves at bay.”
“Is that all its been?” Kasha spoke, her voice filled with sorrow, but sweet like the soft smell of roses lightly covered with dew “Nothing but your job? Just another task to you, is that what I am? Just protecting me, not actually holding any really feelings for me?”
“Is that a problem?” The Hunter sighed as he spoke, “Maybe it’s been wrong to drag you along for these past seven years, like you really meant something to me. But you have to understand, I had to do something to get you to stay with me. I couldn’t risk you being out there alone with when whatever it is that’s doing this took notice of your power. So I did what I had to. I made you think I loved you. Nothing more than a game.”
As Kasha dropped to her knees in tears, so to did The Hunter go reeling back on his heels, Vincent’s fist planted firmly into the side of his jaw. “You never joke about love!” he angrily spat out his words, as The Hunter reflexively went for his daggers, bringing them up towards Vincent’s throat, at the same time Vincent’s hand flew into his duster, drawing and cocking the hammer of his revolver, lining the barrel up with the tip of The Hunter’s nose.
For a split second The Hunter paused to laugh at Vincent’s predicament “You fired six shots already,” he smiled snidely again, “your out of bullets. Now what?”
“Wrong. My father made this gun,” Vincent said plainly, “Seven chambers.”
The Hunter hesitated for a moment before deciding to call his bluff, to which Vincent simply smiled and said “Go ahead and press your luck, its your funeral, not mine.”
Slowly, and carefully The Hunter sheathed his daggers, and took a slow step back away from Vincent. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Vincent half-joked, half-threatened, as he released the hammer on the revolver and re-holstered it, “Now I want you out of my until we reach the Dancing Boar Inn. Than you come back, and we’ll talk. Until than get lost. We’ll wait there for you, since you’ll most likely go off and kill something. Oh and don’t be late.”
Vincent stooped down to speak softly to Kasha, trying to calm her, and ease the pain of her broken heart. The Hunters face cringed for a moment as he watched Kasha in tears, but it was only there for a second, as Vincent glanced up at him. The Hunter was worried Vincent might have seen it; if he had he knew Vincent would most defiantly get them together. Terribly horrid yet a wonderful idea, after all she would only be hurt so close to him.
“Why? Why did I ever fall for him?” Kasha sobbed to herself, as she tried to withdraw from the world “I’ve been such a fool to think he could ever really love me.”
As if picking up on some hidden signal given away by Kasha, Vincent put a hand on her shoulder, and smiled warmly as he spoke to her of kinder gentler things. Always keeping her pain the center of attention, but always over-shadowed by other things. Keeping her calm and rational as she openly expressed her grief. The Hunter having slipped off to parts unknown at this time…

Chapter II: On the way to the Dancing Boar Inn

Vincent and Kasha walked slowly on towards the Dancing Boar, as she continued to weep to him. Vincent seemed to take in everything she said with a quiet magnitude that would suggest he was much older than he appeared. Vincent took a moment; too assess the situation as it was laid out before him, even so far as Kasha’s entire persona.
She was wearing a tan leather vest, with a faded blue undershirt, tanned breeches with an assortment of daggers lining her belt. She had an aura of betrayal and grief about her; Vincent could tell that she had just had her worst fears confirmed. But he had already begun to formulate what he was going to say to her, what he needed to do to convey the appropriate emotion as the time called for.
“Listen Kasha,” Vincent’s words were soft, almost like a whisper as he spoke. “I know it’s hard to understand. But you see, that is his way. In his own way he does care. He just can’t show it very well. Seven years is a long time to go without caring for someone. Trust me, he cares. You just have to show him a great deal of patience. I know it hurts, and I know it feels as if your whole world is falling apart… but give it time. Time for him to adjust to being open with his feelings. I know it must seem like it will never happen, but trust me it will. You just need to be patient with the buffoon.”
Kasha nodded as she started to sob again, in her heart she knew that crying was the only thing she had left to do. It seemed as if everything else had been stolen from her. Vincent smiled slightly, as he wrapped his arms around her, letting her tears fall into his chest as he knelt down, his arms wrapped around her. They sat there for sometime, him holding her as she sobbed into him, in the middle of the road.
As she cried, Vincent reassured her that it would be all right. That she was much too beautiful to be alone in life. “Long amber hair,” Vincent whispered to Kasha, “Deep sea green eyes, a smile that could warm a room, and enough kindness to melt the heart of an Ice Titan. Even if that badgering fool does not see what you have to offer, I swear another will. One not afraid to show that they care, so take heart… it’ll hurt for awhile, but all pain must eventually give way, if you let it.”
“I know God… I know.” Vincent spoke to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, “I feel it too. Its close, whatever it is its close.”
“Do you feel that?” Kasha asked, as if picking up on some unforeseen force, through some unseen means, “Something isn’t right. Something about that tree does not feel right.”
Vincent turned his head slightly to see the tree she was pointing at, but there was nothing there. Nothing but a powerful aura of darkness, hate and evil that seemed to emanate from a singular point. “Run.” he ordered “Run Kasha, run now!”
Vincent spun around on his heels, drawing from inside his duster a heavy mace, just as Kasha began to sprint the other way, straight into the woods. “Show yourself!” Vincent shouted to nothing, as the aura began to encroach around him, “I haven’t time or care for these petty games! Show yourself, and face me!”
As if reacting to his command a dark swirling mist began to form in front of him, and it took upon the shape of a humanoid at least ten feet tall, a single horn protruding from the center of its forehead. Massive bat-like wings jutted from the back of its purple and festering skin. Its wings were torn, and its skin itself was covered in large black sores, that oozed a deep thick yellow puss that reeked of death and decay. “Holy Mother of Mercy,” Vincent mumbled, “Rash’Garm, the festering of souls.”
“Pathetic Holy Man,” Rash’Garm spoke, its voice like a thousand screams of agony rolled into one deep horrifying tongue of broken common and Hell-Speak, “this world is standing on the edge of an abyss, and my master is close behind. The girl will be mine to give to my master, as your life will be mine to take.”
Rash’Garm thrust out the palm of his left hand, and without even striking Vincent, it sent him sailing backwards, splintering a tree as his spine slammed into it. He let out a choked gasp as he slammed into another tree, sliding to the ground, blood spitting from his lips. “Have to get up,” Vincent kept repeating to himself, “I can’t let it win, not like this.”
“I have won, wretched Holy Man,” the devil whispered in his mind, “I had won long before our confrontation here.”
Vincent spoke swiftly and quietly, a prayer to his God. As his prayer finished, his mace took upon a soft white heavenly glow. Emanating a low hum, the devil’s skin seemed to shimmer and wither from both the sound and the light. “In the name of God,” Vincent choked out, as he staggered to his feet, hurling the mace at the same time, “I shall dispatch you!”
The devil quickly folded a wing down around him, the mace striking it soundly, in a flash of pure light. A tear formed in the devils wing as it jerked back a little. “A worthy effort,” Rash’Garm said respectfully, “but futile.”
Rash’Garm let out a terrible roar as he charged in at Vincent, its left arm forming into a singular jagged spine, “Now you die Holy Man!”
“If you can find me”, Vincent shouted as he pulled a gray orb, that pulsated with magma, from his thick duster, “than you can have me!”
He hurled the orb at Rash’Garm as he turned, and rolled behind a tree. A bright burning flash, more than capable of burning the iris from a person eyes emanated from the orb the moment it came in contact with the ground, creating a flash as bright and hot as the sun that washed over and singed Rash’Garm, causing the beast to let out an unhallowed roar of hate and pain.
The moment the light had subsided Vincent turned on his heels, and cradling his ribs, sprinted through the forest, hoping to put as much distance between him and Rash’Garm. “Got to run” Vincent’s mind raced, as did his feet, “can’t stop. If it catches me I’m a goner.”
It seemed as if a black and oppressive shadow followed close behind him, as if at any moment if he were to turn to see behind him, he would see hell itself smiling back at him.
He barreled through a set of small shrubs, crashing to the ground as he coughed up more blood. “Damn it,” he mused, “I can’t go on… to tired… I suppose this is the end.”
He rolled over onto his back to see behind him, and he was right, Rash’Garm or at least the blackness of it, had already began to take shape behind him. A sinister smile upon its jeering lips as he spoke, “I told you Holy Man, your mine.”
Another voice rang out, being lead by the sound of rolling thunder, like silver bells singing out to the heavens, “Your foul and darkened miasma shall be denied a vassal of the heavens. Prepare to be deported back from wince you came devil!”
Rash’Garm hissed as he snapped his gaze to see this new aggressor, but only caught sight of a flail as it swung down into his face, spiraling him backwards into a tree with a heavy thud.
Rash’Garm leapt from his place against the tree and turning in a circle in the air landed quietly behind them, his wings spread wide as he let his gaze drift upwards to see his new aggressor.
Wearing bright silver armor, polished to a mirror like shine, was this new aggressor. A gyrspike gripped tightly in their hands, a stout wooden shaft adorned with silver and blue symbols, a long sword on one end and a flail on the other.
Rash’Garm lowered his massive bulk near enough to the ground for a pounce, but Vincent, who had regained his footing and had already drawn his revolver, the hammer click having alerted him, to this other threat.
Rash’Garm seemed set in his desire to attack, but without warning or even a hint, he leapt high into the air and his body formed into a blackened mist which drifted away with the wind.
Vincent let out a deep painful sigh, and went limp, falling to the earth like a lead weight. The armored stranger caught him in their arms and Vincent spoke weakly “Its lucky you showed up when you did.”
“It wasn’t luck,” came the reply, “it was the Divine Will. Such encounters are never chance, always pre-ordained by the Divine Will. It was fate I met you this day.”
“Either way good sir, I need to find someone. The one this devil had come seeking to begin with.”
“Sir?” the stranger whispered, removing their helmet to reveal long red hair upon a lightly tanned face, dark blue eyes, and a soft smile parted her beautiful lips, “I think you’re mistaken. I’m no sir.”
Vincent gasped in amazement before composing himself and took the time to explain his situation, as she helped him into her horse’s saddle, due to his previous wounds.
Vincent took a moment to admire the black horse, its mane and tail a pure ivory white. The saddle was ordained in the same silver and blue markings, as was her armor and gyrspike.
“I am Vincent Tilips, Witch-Hunter and Cleric, son of William Tilips the paranormalist.”
“Renora Starlight, Paladin of the Divine Will, daughter of Alexia the Avenger and Martin the Guardian of Taureliloomea Gate.”
They rode for a little over an hour before they came upon Kasha, though something felt wrong. Out of place with the area.
“Do you feel that?” Renora asked in a whisper only audible to Vincent, “Something dark looms in this area. Perhaps the same devil from before?”
“It is.” Vincent nodded in reply, as he loaded the last two rounds into his revolver, “I can feel him.”
Renora whispered a hushed prayer, and her Gyrspike became engulfed in a white and blue flame, that seemed to sing softly.
A horrible hiss was heard from all around, and the voice of Rash’Garm spoke bitterly “I will be back. She will soon belong to my master, as you will all be dead.”
“Let us not linger here any longer.” Vincent said with a deft authority, “We need to get to the Dancing Boar, before the fall of sunset. Come we must hurry.”
Kasha and Renora both readily agreed and they quickly hurried along their way, Vincent insisting on walking, but being steadily refused due to his injuries. It was just as the sun began to set that they reached the Dancing Boar Inn, where they quickly arranged for the horse to be stabled, and lodgings for the night as well.
They decided it would be wiser and safer to share one accommodation. Realizing that there was safety in numbers, they moved into a simple two-bed room.
Vincent insisted on taking the floor, but Kasha quickly convinced Renora that with his injuries it would be a bad idea for him to be on the floor. Kasha would take the floor instead, which is where the problem started, for Renora could not honorably sleep in comfort as another was forced not to. Kasha not wanting to be rude argued that it was okay, to her dismay, could not sway Renora in her decision, and vise versa. After about an hour, at Vincent’s suggestion, it was decided they would share a bed, as Vincent slept in the other.
Once the sleeping arrangements were made it was decided to share the stories of what each of them were doing there and why.



* * * * *

The Hunter quietly crept along, keeping to the brush and shadows. His eyes carefully picking out a fresh, and rather obvious path, that he followed in complete silence.
He picked his way at a tedious pace for well over an hour, before he came upon what he was seeking.
The Grumbler loomed just ahead, dark onyx skin, with an extra mouth where its stomach should be, as it feasted on what appeared to be the remains of a merchant caravan. “This will give me a means to vent,” The Hunter thought to himself, as he drew his daggers, “besides, it isn’t like this beast isn’t causing enough problems as is.”
The Grumbler reached out with a pair of tentacles from its back feeling for more food amongst the wreckage of the wagons. It made a mumbling sound that resembled complaining and whining.
The Hunter wasn’t worried about the effect of listening to a Grumbler, but more so by the sixteen tentacles upon its back, considering two of them could crush stone with ease.
“All I have to do is keep the element of surprise and make my move.”
The Hunter quietly crept out of his hiding place, and suddenly broke into a run, jumping into the air as he unsheathed his daggers, ready to stick them into the Grumbler’s neck.
It was in the next instant did it occur to The Hunter that the Grumbler had been using its psychic feelers to probe him long before he sprung his ambush. The Grumbler lashed out with one of the larger tendrils and slammed The Hunter up and over its head into the pile of wagon parts. His head landing in the squishy intestines of an unidentifiable thing, “I hope this wasn’t someone I knew.” The Hunter said rather seriously.
The Hunter was snapped from his trance as he noticed that the Grumbler was lashing down with both of its large tendrils. He rolled quickly to the side as they smashed down where he had just been. He growled as he leapt to his feet, after rolling past several more strikes “Time to die you lumbering behemoth!”
As he leapt to his feet, he tossed his daggers to the ground hooking both of the larger Tendrils only to realize to late that he had over looked the fact that he was now sailing towards its head with no weapons. He drew back his fist ready to punch it straight in the face, just as its other fourteen tentacles flew up and wrapped around him, trying to force there way down his throat.
He fumbled for his crossbow, and hastily removing it, he fired the bolt at some random point on the creature. The bolt struck it somewhere on its foot, causing it to screech in pain. The Hunter used this one moment to twist out of its grasp and slide down its back. The Grumbler reacted a moment to late, but still managed to tear the crossbow from The Hunters hands.
The Hunter turned on his heels to face the creature, only to find a tendril slapping him in the face, rolling him into a dust ball across the ground. He shook the cobwebs from his head, only to find the Grumbler lumbering towards him with quickness, however clumsy, that seemed to fit its large size. The Hunter rolled to the side narrowly avoiding being stepped on, but didn’t realize it had counted for such a move. It reached down on either side with four tendrils, knowing one was bound to catch its prey. The moment it tightened around The Hunters ankle, it flung him high into the air, spinning him like a helpless doll as he flew threw the air, to smash face first into the ground, dust puffing up around him.
He made a mad dash for his daggers, leaping that last foot or so, clasping his hands around them, just as the Grumbler wrapped itself around his legs. The Grumbler pulled him back so hard that his daggers popped from the ground and flew freely from his grasp.
The creature dangled him upside down, preparing to swallow him whole, through the mouth on its stomach. It swung him forward, his teeth like a gaping maw leading to oblivion. And oblivion was hungry, though it would have to wait for its meal, as The Hunter grasped its tongue and pulling it from its mouth let it snap back in. The beast dropped him as it reeled back in shock.
The Hunter twisted in the air to land on his feet, kicking his heels against the ground, a thick blade extending from both boots as he leapt up in a spinning kick, slitting the beasts throat and slicing its eyes wide open.
The Grumblers thick black blood began spilling all over the ground as it stumbled about bleeding and suffering. This agony only lasted a few moments before it bled out and died. Its body wouldn’t rot for long. Abyssals never do. In a few hours, if it were truly dead, its body would turn to ash and be deposited back in hell. If it were alive, it would begin to regenerate.
The Hunter looked it over for a few moments, and decided that it was most likely dead. He walked slowly on, heading for the Dancing Boar Inn.
“At least that is one more thing less this world has to worry about,” The Hunter mused to himself, “and now I’m in quite the good mood.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #11 on: March 27, 2012, 04:40:33 am »
This was another unique piece in my collection - mostly because of the setting. Again, I never could decide if I liked it, only that I liked the idea of it.

Quote
Aces of Old - 2009

I stood upon the crest of a hill, over looking the now smoldering remains of what was East Ouran, the enemy capital. I glanced over at Storm, our company flight leader, and my friend, as I spoke barely above a whisper, afraid to disturb the still calm that had settled over the warfront “Is it over… is the war finally over?” I asked hesitantly

“It’s never over.” Storm replied, “There is no end to wars, just pauses no matter how brief or long, between the battles of one great war.”

“Hmm?” I enquired of my flight lead, showing a little more of my confusion then I intended.

“There is no end to war… alliances shift, and those fighting them change, but war in itself never changes. Its always two people killing each other for reasons they shouldn’t.” Storm turned to me with these words, removing the flight helmet that hid her face.

I noticed now, for the first time since I met her, how beautiful she was. Her pale skin, a soft reflection of her amber eyes, and the locks of bronze hair framing her delicate features. It was hard to believe at a glance that she, with the features of a porcelain doll, could be the Valiant Storm, who almost single handedly won us the war.

“Roger, you have to decide what kind of a person you’re going to be.”  Her words caught me by surprise, and made me stumble over myself for a response, before she continued on as if I had said something intelligible, “There are three kinds of pilots in this world; Knights fight for honor and their country. Following orders as blindly as ever, until eventually burning out in a blaze of glory upon the earth. Mercenaries fight for money and have no ideology other then surviving to the next job. And finally, Warriors fight for ideals and personal belief, no matter how misguided or foolish.”

I swallowed slightly, before speaking “Ma’am… what kind are you?” though I think I already knew the answer before she replied.

“Me? I’m a different kind of pilot. I’m one of the last of the old Aces.” she smiled at me, tucking her helmet slightly under her arm “I live for the moments between life and death you find in battle. Where those killing at one moment, are in the next dead themselves. There is a brief pause in battle, where life and death hold no meaning. That’s why I fight, and that’s why I live.”

She shifted her pose slightly to the side, letting her hair fall in front of her delicate features, as she spoke in that smooth heavenly tone of hers “And that’s why I have to return to the skies.”

“Captain… do you think we’ll ever meet again?” I asked her

She nodded slightly “There’s always going to be another battle somewhere, someone will have political or economic interest in an area, and that’ll lead us into another war. That’s where you will find me… in the skies above this earth; dancing amongst the clouds and watching the spectacle of life and death played out in just moments, endlessly repeated.”

She lifted her gaze a moment, watching a small squadron of fighters pass by over head, the flight leader drawing a slightly sharper contrail then the others. I watched as well, wondering just what she saw of such interest, she was never one to gaze idly at the planes that flew over head before… and then, just as she spoke I realized it.

“There, he’s like me, one of the old Aces.” she placed her flight helmet on and shook my hand “Its time for me to go Roger, the blue skies are calling me home, and somewhere out there is another battle for me to fight. We’ll meet again, maybe not as allies, but as friends.”

With that she turned, and she left… I knew what she meant by that. Even if I and the Captain ever had to fight, we’d still be friends.  We wouldn’t mourn the loss of the other, we wouldn’t have to… for the sky is the Captains home, and in each battle, there is a moment between life and death, where either holds no meaning.

Its there, that the Captain would live on forever.

I looked upwards, wondering if I’d catch a glimpse of the Captains plane, or the other Ace who flew over head just moments ago, I even recognized his markings… Halo Six, the Fallen Angel they called him.

It was said about him, that his country, his family… all of it was taken from him one day when he was flying in the sky. Now, nobody knows what he flies for… he just takes to the sky and like the Captain, seems to not survive, but thrive in those precious few moments between life and death.

Maybe that’s how he reconnects to his family, I didn‘t know then. All I knew for certain is that the Captain longed to meet him in battle. To test herself against someone such as him, and if need be, fall from the skies but never to return to the earth. Her spirit would always remain up there. It’s where she belonged, and where she needed to be when she died.

I knew then, I could never be like the Captain. The foolish notion that she could ever love me was pointless. I couldn’t ever abandon my country, my friends or my duty to them. No matter what I think, I will fly for my country, no matter what mistakes they make. That is my duty as a soldier.

That wasn’t the last time I ever saw the Captain or him either. Maybe I’ll tell you what happened to the two of them someday.

But before that, I think its best if we take a moment to remember that war, my first war. The one that brought me to know the Captain, to love her for all she was and all I couldn’t have, and him; this Ace of Old lost to the blinding fury of his sorrow.

Yeah, maybe I’ll tell you that story someday… and then, if you’d like I’ll tell you the story of what happened to the Captain and him afterwards.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #12 on: March 27, 2012, 04:43:22 am »
And this is the second thing I've written in a different period then my usual. I was never shooting much for accuracy, just having fun while I wrote it.

Quote
Military Operation - 2011

My heart was pounding in my ears, louder then anything I’d ever heard before. I sucked in a deep breath of air, forcing myself to steady my mind “three-two, six-five” repeating it to myself over and over. There was a sudden blast of wind, and the deafening roar of whirring cannons as a plane passed overhead; chunks of mortar and dust from the building across the street blasted in all directions.

I sucked in a deep breath of air, and sprinted from behind the bombed out building I’d been hiding behind and made a line for a cement barricade half over turned in the street. I could hear the whistling of bullets as they flew past me, embedding in the wall next to me with a distinct ping. I forced myself to put it out of my mind so I could just focus on making it to the next piece of cover.

As I neared it I dove behind it, sand puffing up into my face as I hit the dirt hard. I coughed a couple of times, before sucking in a deep breath of air. Movement caught my eye for a second, as I noticed several armed men exiting a nearby structure and entering the street; they were making their way quickly towards my position screaming something in a language I didn’t know, “three-two, six-five” and right on time the plane made a second pass over the area. As it made a low pass over the street, kicking up dust in its wake, its gun made a bloody swath through anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the open.

I moved again, this time my goal was much further down the street with minimal cover the whole way there. I could hear the impact of the bullets hitting around me, tiny pockmarks of dirt puffing up at my feet from where they fell around me. I moved behind rows of carts and low ledges in this former marketplace, trying to keep anything I could between me and the shooters.

I stumbled over a piece of a destroyed wall, losing my footing before hitting a piece of cobblestone; I could feel blood running down my nose from where I hit. My vision was swimming but I maintained enough sense to scramble quickly behind the portion of the wall that was still standing. I could hear the impact of the assault rifle fire hitting the wall behind me.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone rounding the corner just off to my left side. Without thinking my hand grasped the grip of my .45 and yanked it from my shoulder holster; in the next instance a half dozen shots fired from the weapons barrel. I held the gun as steady as I could in one hand, my intended target slumping over slowly a gurgled cry of resistance falling silent after a moment.

I holstered the pistol quickly making sure it was secure in its holster, before taking my rifle once more in both hands as I steeled myself for having to move again. Unfortunately this time I didn’t have the precious few seconds to start running that the plane provided as by now it had already emptied its gun and was returning home.

I leaned forward to begin my run, and narrowly managed to fall backwards behind the wall again as chunks of mortar were ripped off the corner of the wall by incoming fire. I took a deep breath and tried it again, but this attempt was even more quickly repulsed then the first. By this time they were just firing indiscriminately at that side of the wall, suppressing even the faintest hope of beginning to advance again. It took me a moment to notice that the sound of gunfire was getting closer; they were advancing on my position now.

I checked the safety on my M16 and took a deep breath; I knew I had to try something, anything at this point was better then sitting here waiting for them to crowd around me. I was jarred from my thoughts at the sound of an explosion, bits of rock flying over the wall and peppering the building in front of me.

I quickly glanced over, noticing someone from my squad ducking behind a pillar for cover; smoke still visible from his M203 Grenade Launcher. The sound of enemy gunfire was silent for a moment, likely from shellshock from the sudden explosion, so I didn’t waste another second. I ran.

It didn’t take long for them to recover enough to begin firing at me once again, but by then I was already up to speed and putting a fair amount of distance between them and me. I came to the last building on this street, and immediately took a sharp right at the corner and bound up a staircase; taking the stairs two at a time until I was at the top. Once there I positioned myself to provide support for the rest of my squad. I quickly aimed down the sights of my weapon, and began to squeeze off rounds. The muzzle of my rifle echoed its retort in a thunderous flash of light.

It didn’t take long before I could pick out the distinct sound of footsteps coming up the stairs behind me. I stopped providing suppressing fire a moment to confirm who was coming up behind me. I trained my rifle steadily at the stairs, the moment seemed to drag on eternally before they came into view from my position; two from my platoon who had been a half dozen or so steps behind me when I began my sprint.

I turned my attention back to the street below, and resumed suppressive fire back on the hostiles. The sound of my weapon was suddenly dwarfed as a squad mate positioned himself just to my left side and opened fire with his SAW. The LMG laid down a wall of fire at a rate faster then I could have ever hoped, firing two of my gun at the same time. Firing from this position was only a matter of time before the rest of my squad was able to regroup with us. As soon as we had taken up a defensive position I leaned my rifle up on the wall next to me and pulled the pin on a signal grenade. I let the grenade roll a foot or so away from my position, watching it spew a long strand of green smoke into the sky.

Moments later there was another rush of air as Longbow Helicopters swarmed the air like angry hornets. A thick volley of machine gun fire sent anyone even dreaming of advancing on our position scattering like rats; an occasional explosion from a hellfire rocket would rattle our building as it smashed into whatever hole our would be attackers scurried to.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the eventual noise of gunfire and incomprehensible yelling died down around me.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #13 on: March 27, 2012, 04:46:41 am »
Well there you all have it, most of what has survived on my computer up to this point. There are still more files scattered in odd folders gathering cyber-dust; however this is all I am going to post for now. I hope that in someway you have found enjoyment in reading this, and I do look forward to hearing from others on my work.

I really don't write much anymore - I can never seem to find the will to do so. Anyways, let me know what you think by posting below of what you've read. And please, let me know which piece you are talking about in particular.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Jet

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #14 on: March 27, 2012, 06:41:00 pm »
I enjoy what you write. If you don't mind me saying, you sound like more of a poet than an author of books and such. Most of your writing seems to hold a deeper emotional connection, much like poems do. You must enjoy writing, judging on how well you do it. For the most part, people's work comes out better when they are passionate about what they are doing. Now, one thing I don't understand fully, is you. You are an excellent writer, and can really go somewhere with this. But from the sound of it, you take no pride, or even like for that matter, in what you write. I don't know why people who are good at something have to be so overly critical about their work. I do it too, but not to the extent of what it appears you do. You constantly write that you are unsure whether you like the story, then I read it and it's amazing. How could you not like it? What is their not to like? I'm sorry if this offends you somehow, but why can't you see how good you are and boost your own ego from it. Sometimes it is good to be full of yourself.
"Miniscule conflicts are insignificant in relation to the paradox of life itself." - Me, Josh Karels


PLUR

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #15 on: March 27, 2012, 06:55:33 pm »
Why? I have a memory that lingers and tears me down - further I tend to just screw up everything I do in one form or another.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Jet

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #16 on: March 27, 2012, 07:20:05 pm »
Don't see what you do wrong. Turn a blind eye to what you do wrong and focus on exactly what you do well. And I believe that's writing. Focus on what you not only like, but what you are good at. Yes it's okay to improve, but be proud of what you do, no matter how bad you think it is. Look at me. I draw, terribly. I am no Picasso. But even what I do, I love it. I see where I can improve, but I don't say that I don't like it. I take light that I am not perfect. Perfection is the utmost boredom. I also write novels. I am not as good as you, but I enjoy writing and I enjoy what comes out, no matter how many people tell me it's bad. I like it anyways.
"Miniscule conflicts are insignificant in relation to the paradox of life itself." - Me, Josh Karels


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Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #17 on: March 28, 2012, 03:03:34 am »
Sorry the last part was less about my writing and more a general statement of my fortunes. However! As stated I have a bad memory from when I was young that I've never fully managed to get past. I suppose such is the nature of traumatic experiences, and as this one pertains to my writing it gives me problems with doing so.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #18 on: July 11, 2012, 02:50:43 am »
I wrote this a long while ago, and originally I intentionally avoided posting it. I am not really certain why - I suppose ashamed of the fact I ever wrote it in the first place. Which is odd to be honest; this entire idea was abandoned not because of writer's block, but because for some reason I am deeply ashamed of this entire piece.

Tis strange to be, no?

Quote
Genesis - 2006

Richard lay in his bed a glazed expression across his face as he stared idly at the ceiling. He lay there, the only movement the soft rising and falling of his chest with each breath in rhythm to the soft ticking of an aged wall clock.

A blinking red light on his telephone acted as a quiet reminder that someone had tried to get a hold of him earlier. Slowly, almost unthinkingly he reached over and clicked the play button, to which he was greeted with a beep and the machines voice. “You have three new messages.”

The voice droned on after a moment “Message one,” he lay his hand across his chest only half listening to it, as his eyes glanced at the clock, twenty minutes to eight. “Hey, its me Mark! Give me a call when you get the chance. Alright talk to you later.” He rolled over on his side, careful not to ruffle the suit he was wearing “Message two,” and a silence followed before it clicked over one more time “Message three: Baby its me. I’m just calling to let you know that your supposed to pick me up at eight, not seven like you tried last time. I love you and I’ll see you tonight! Hugs and kisses!” with that the answering machine made another click and the voice droned out that there were no more messages.

A pale light flicked on, from the watch on his wrist as it made a distinct beeping sound. It was precisely fifteen minutes to eight as he grabbed his car keys off his night stand, and slid slowly out of bed. “Bye mom! I’ll be back later!” he called downstairs as he hopped on the stairways banister, sliding quickly to the bottom.

His mother called out that she loved him, and he gave a soft sigh as he replied “I know mom… I love you too.” and with that he opened the door and quietly shut it behind him.

He made his way to an old Ford pickup that his father left him before he died.
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra

Offline Cirocco the Silver Fox

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Re: Cirocco's Old Writings
« Reply #19 on: July 11, 2012, 02:59:46 am »
This is another thing I was originally not going to post, again - I really have no idea. Of course, I could have already posted this and just forgotten, of that I don't know either. I almost, sort of, like this one. I do realize though that it is largely in need of rewriting, but it marks an interesting start I would suppose. And believe it or not it is technically the "second" in the series, though really a prequel to the first I wrote.

Each story in the series was going to be told from a different character's perspective but take place in a chronological order. That way if I ever fleshed them out and expanded upon them you'd have a different character, or characters, perspective in each book telling the same story.

I had so far, six distinct characters to base the perspective of each story off of. This one really doesn't have a set perspective yet, largely because it was a placeholder for ideas and characters.

Hrm... I really should finish this one. Maybe... .... ...

Quote
Knights of Ilex - 2007

Part I

   Rizak the Battle Master let out a glum sigh, as he studied the faces of the soldiers standing in perfect formation in front of him. His current company over a thousand strong, were mostly young boys, not quite yet men.

   He felt sickened, knowing that it was his duty to send them to die on the battlefield ahead. His voice was calm and collective as he spoke, his words crisp in the cool dawn air “Alright, listen up! You are the Knights of Ilex, men of honor, of courage of valor. Those of you here, have steeled your nerves and swallowed all fear and doubt. I won’t lie to you… what lays ahead of us, will be the most arduous and difficult journey any of you will ever face.” with a brief pause to study their faces a moment longer, he continued “Some of you, will die on this journey… those that survive, will find themselves delivered to the very doorstep of the Grim Reaper. Most of us, won’t be coming back alive from this.”

   Swallowing slightly he nodded slowly, letting them soak in what he just said “ But know that if we don’t go… then the demon beneath the seal will be released, and our world as you know it, will cease to exist. I don’t want to die. I have family to think of… and its for them that I have volunteered to lead this expedition. Those who survive will wear their scars with pride, they will say, ‘I was there. I fought the good fight. I have earned my scars and proved my mettle to the Gods!’. Those that do not… shall have seat at the Great Table. Where with Gods and Immortals shall they consume the wine and fruits of valor.”

   A slight smile crossed his lips, as the company in turn squared their shoulders, other wise motionless, waiting for the order to march. Even if it were to their death, they were willing. “Lets make this one for the heavens… a battle… a victory to be emblazed in stars for all to see and witness our glory!” unsheathing his sword he held it on high a moment, before slashing it downward at an angle “We march, to victory and immortality!”

   He sheathed his sword a moment later, and  turning, grasped the saddle of his ivory white horse and gracefully swung up into it. The Infantry marched in the front, with Archers and Calvary following close behind in that order.

   Trotting along side the ranks, he called out over the sound of their metal boots clashing against the hard earth “Nitesh, come here would you?”. No sooner had he finished his sentence, a strong looking lad from the front line broke formation and quickly sprinted to Rizak.

   “Sir, yes sir?” he spoke in a more respectful tone then most soldiers carry for their commanders “You wanted to see me, sir?”

   “Yes, Nitesh.” his face moved from the soldiers marching in line, to the steady gaze of Nitesh “The men, they respect you, as much if not more then they do me. You’ve proven yourself as one of them, and as a capable soldier. Its because of this, that I put their lives in your hand.”

   Nitesh mumbled in surprise and shock, unsure of what words to form “Your company adjutant now. Its your job to make sure they get what they need… that they are as comfortable as possible…” looked back to the men in the line, shaking his head slightly “It’ll be mine… to tell them where to die.”

   Nitesh nodded, and quickly sprinted back to his position in the formation after Rizak motioned him to away.

   Rizak could see the men joshing and teasing Nitesh about his newest promotion, he could also see clearly that behind the smile and laughter of Nitesh, a more bold and serious expression was taking shape “Maybe, just maybe he can find what he’s missing… before the end.”

Part II

   The journey in itself had unsurprisingly proven relatively easy thus far. They had crossed the Emerald Hill’s, the Valley of Kings, and even the Inner Sea without so much as a goblin encounter. Of course, with an army over five thousand strong, that was to be expected.

   But Rizak knew, could feel it in his bones, that they were approaching an area known as the ‘Devil’s Graveyard’. Taking a slow deep breath he called out the order to halt, over the still night air. His voice broke out over the quiet marching of his army, the otherwise only disturbance over this deathly silent land.

   “Men,” he spoke just loud enough for all to hear “we encroach upon the Devil’s Graveyard… from here our journey shall become a harsh one.” he glances over his shoulder, peering into the swirling mists of the valley ahead, as if expecting at any moment something to come from the very roots of the earth “We go now where none have trodden since the time of the great imprisonment.”

   He turned his horse straight into the mist, and though the horse had seen battle a hundred times and more, it for the first time of his life gave struggle to the rider. “May the God’s be with us this day…”

   Rider and horse stared into each others eyes, seeking some kind of peace of understanding. A moment later, the horse gave one last soft whiney of protest before marching into the swirling mists.

   The company of soldiers fell in line behind their commander, doing their best to follow his ghostly image as it were swallowed up in the mists, faint traces and glimpses were all they could catch as they picked their way ahead.

Part III

   It was nearing sundown, as near as Rizak could figure. They’d been marching at least three hours by his best guess through the Devil’s Graveyard. He turned his horse, letting his men draw a little close so he could avoid shouting the order to break for camp to loudly over the mists.

   The men droned to a stop, and quietly began setting up a shamble of a camp. Tents were pitched, cooking fires were lit and everyone settled into a less-then-easy peace. The men spoke only in whispers, the usual laughter that dominated the camp at night was gone, as if swallowed up in the mist.

   Rizak dismounted from his horse, leaving it near his command tent “Easy girl, easy there.” he fed her some cubed sugar from his hand, on top of her usual ration’s of oats. When the horse was calmed and eating he made his usual round through the camp, not really inspecting as so much trying to keep morale up as high as possible.

   Few dared move further then a few feet from the campfires, and had more then doubled the usual number of sentries they kept on post, up from around twenty, to more then fifty.

   A strong wind sent the mist swirling almost violently about, snuffing out the furthermost edge of campfires as if they were mere candles. A soft wail was carried almost unnaturally upon the wind, as the men tried their best to settle in their tents for the night.

   Come dawn, it was discovered that seven men had disappeared in the night without a trace. All of their possessions, except those they were wearing, were left behind. Upon hearing news of this Rizak summoned Vijoaal, the only Magi within the group.

   Vijoaal was an elderly man, looking far older then even  Rizak, and wore a deep red robe and carried a staff of gnarled birch. Vijoaal was ushered into Rizak’s tent, by the two guards posted outside it.

   “Vijoaal, as you’ve no doubt heard, seven people have turned up missing from their tents sometime in the night.” Rizak spoke, his voice barely over a whisper.

   Vijoaal gave no reply at first, only seem to remain in a quiet meditation for a time “Those that dwell in the mist visited the encampment last night, and snatched the men from their beds.”

   “I was afraid of that,” Rizak began, stopping only to steady himself as he poured him, and Vijoaal a cup of tea “is there anything we can do?”

   Vijoaal shook his head slowly “Not really… no. I can try and force them to reveal themselves with my magic, but doing so would only anger them.”

   Rizak nodded slightly, one hand holding his tea, the other around the hilt to his great sword “Could we fight them then?”

   Vijoaal nodded slightly “Yes, but it would not be easy…” pausing to study Rizak’s face slowly and carefully “I shall speak to your company Adjutant and make the preparations then.”

   Vijoaal then excused himself, and went to find Nitesh to make preparations for the next night.

Part IV

   Dawn gave way to noon, which folded uneventfully into dusk, and once again the men were given the order to make camp. Their was silent hesitation amongst them as they began to pitch their tents and build there fires. Higher, and brighter they made them this time, a series of bonfires spread out along the edges of the camp, hoping to hinder whatever was dwelling just out of sight in the mists.

   Vijoaal had instructed Nitesh to keep the men in full armor, with their weapons handy, and Nitesh had passed this order onto the men. Vijoaal made himself ready, or as ready as he would ever be, at the center of camp. Their he stood waiting, waiting for the winds and the nightmares they carried.

   More towards midnight, when the men had begun to feel the worst part of their fatigue, the winds returned hollow and breathless they carried the wail through the camp. Even the mighty bonfires that burnt hotter and brighter as they were fed most of their available firewood, were easily snuffed out.

   Vijoaal stamped his staff against the hard earth, his voice ringing out like a shrill cry in the night “Reveal yourselves!” he stamped his staff once more to the earth and a distinct vibration reverberated along the wind.

   The mists themselves began to take swirling inhuman shapes, grotesque faces, and disproportionate arms ending in long serrated nails. They let out an inhuman wail of sharpened agony, which cut into the men like a knife.

   The soldiers clutched to their ears, blood trickling down their cheek. Many fell to their knees, their temples throbbing as they groaned in pain.

   The creatures of mist plunged into the camp, lifting men and horse alike off the ground, tearing at their eyes and throats, before dropping their lifeless bodies to the earth. Blood, from man and beast alike, began to rain down on the encampment, and pool at the feet of those trying to mount a resistance.

   Rizak charged from his tent sword in hand and began slashing and tearing, with little affect, on the first creature that crossed his path. His target gave little reaction to his hits, but it still acted as if it felt the blade nipping and stinging at its near-incorporeal body. Fueled only on the belief that he was in fact damaging the creature in someway, if only slightly, he launched his attack with renewed vigor

   “Fight on, we can do this if we work together!” came Nitesh’s voice from somewhere in the distant, his tiny short sword and buckler proving to be near useless in this battle.

   The creature tore his shield from his hand, tossing it to the side with a fleered expression across its disfigured face. With a sinister hiss the creature dove for Nitesh’s exposed neck, who turning slightly to look over his shoulder called out in slight desperation “Now!”

   In the next instant more then a dozen arrows, and a pair of halberds had done their best to sink into the creatures essence. Off the sheer overwhelming force applied to it, its being collapsed in on itself and with a ear piercing shriek left this world in an instant.
« Last Edit: July 11, 2012, 03:03:00 am by Cirocco the Silver Fox »
I chase the wind, but have no dreams of catching it.

Today is all we have - Personal Mantra