Home Games All LiteraryClubs Events Forums Green Room Poetry Prose Roleplays

EverWayward #1

Aedomir · 2008-01-19T17:24:17Z

Author's Note I posted this back in January, but please take this and up to around #7 as a pinch of salt, I have improved leagues since then! Thank you. Chapter One Fourteen muddy rangers aimed their swords towards the countless Kalbarcs. Each bearer muttered a silent prayer under their breath. Just the weak circle of exiles, back to back on the summit of Mount Suntary stood between hordes of leather-clad savages and complete conquest of the known world. The fingers trembled over the weapons, yet none lowered. Veils of fear and dread swept across their faces, but it was the sudden inspiration of vengeance that inspired an embracing strength. Retribution was ought to their comrades; each now face down in crimson snow. No end to the swarms of Kalbarcs, each tearing through the misty pines looked in sight. The end to the chase was far and the end to these dark days even further. Only a bitter ending had been unmasked. Death awaited them. Overhead, what should have been the product of a shimmering twilight, fused into a burnt orange. The Kalbarcs, nimble purple statures secreted foul stenches that stroke even the rangers, a closing distance away. No side to the peak bore an escape. The goblin-like creatures that leapt between obstacles and ledges rapidly closed in. Each leap brought nothing but a pounding heart to the outlaws. They raised their blades for the clash. Sweat and chattering teeth began to overcome them and they neared the verge to succumb to devilry before the front wave skidded to a break in the snow. In turn, the outlaws glanced at one another, not daring to bash an eyelid. A faint crackle sizzled from behind them. Wearily, they risked a sharp glance over their shoulders, unaware of the vista that loomed. The sight that greeted them boiled their blood and sucked away the breath from their bodies. It presented no malice; in fact it had rekindled their hope. In the centre of the group, a jet black ground had burnt from the ice. There, between them all lay baron dust heaps, punctuated by nothing save for the cacophonies of Kalbarc screams. Not these were the men gaping at, but the great, raging stature that had arisen from the ground. The Guardian had arrived. Aedomir and Aganost, shoulder to shoulder exchanged a swift glance, and turned to the enemy. “Let’s go!” Aedomir cried. After a moment to gather courage, they tensed their blades. “Now!” They leapt into the air, heaving swords handle first towards the now charging swarms. With a great smash, Aedomir’s sword clashed forward and knocked two Kalbarcs down. Dark blue blood gushed out and with an instant drive of the blade a third toppled helplessly into the crowd. He felt a scimitar whoosh past his cheek. Guided now, he made for another strike. The skills of Aganost’s fine attacks, kept the enemy at bay, but he wondered for how long. Captain of the outlaws, Aganost greeted battle not so easily. Now, he began to forfeit to age, but he knew that with Aedomir and the Guardian at his side, he would be safe. Bless the lad. Aedomir would give his life to save Aganost, and after all these years, he knew a favour ought to be handed back to him. Aganost lashed his sword forward and spun sharply round, releasing his momentum in a sudden swipe, knocking a line of Kalbarcs down clean. A row behind these recoiled backwards and a path arose. But a path to what? Kalbarcs were still hurdling from the mist, and the great companionship that had lived with him through his life would be abandoned to die if he left now. The upshot of loyal men fighting alongside him, come rain come retribution. He could not leave his comrades. After five minutes of battle had passed, Aedomir became aware of the dieing men around him. The Guardian would be ready soon… just keep holding… seven minutes… eight... He threw his sword-grasped fist into the air. Two rotten spears broke from the crowd and clashed into the side of his blade. With a fine thrust of his blade, the spearheads cleaved from the shaft and propelled into the mist. Before the Kalbarcs could recover, a slash of Aedomir’s sword had gashed one’s neck and punctured the other’s stomach.

ArtisanofGuild

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 10

Thu Mar 27, 2008 2:46 am

ArtisanofGuild says... · Thu Mar 27, 2008 2:46 am

you have just as much potential as this story does, and its riddled with it. i see a very promising future for you. Question though can you write for me a list of your favorite stories, fantasies epics, trilogies, series, no matter just the ones you really enjoyed reading? i'd explain but im not sure how to. thank you.

Quote

You are not the voice in your mind, but the one who is aware of it.
— Eckhart Tolle

EverWayward #1

About / Info

Forums & RPG

Literary

Resources