Young Writers Society

this is a little something i dug up a while ago. i dont have a title and not much has happened yet. so, COME ON CRITS! TEAR IT APART! there are probably a billion mistakes and i truly am sorry for that!

Artorius Dameon, son of Ambrose and descendant of General Barthio Dameon, the Father of Rodan and now known as the god of gods. Art was the emperor’s son and was a skilled combatant in many fighting techniques, including swordsmanship, archery and hand-to-hand combat. He lived in the beautiful city of Rodartus: the largest city of the Rodan Empire and housing its soldiers, citizens, merchants and royalty.

The city was laid upon three mountains: the first mountain was named the Red District that meant “the spilling of blood” and specialized in war. The second was the Gold District, which specialized in trade and Redeens, Rodans currency. The last was the White District meant “the Light” and specialized in Rodans religion called Rogeen. Artorius and his father were housed in the gold district.

Art was sitting on a thick branch of a tree that stood at the front of their house. They had a large yard and medium walls as to have some privacy. He was thinking of what is going to happen in the future.

Throughout the years he was told that he wasn’t normal, for he had marked the beginning of the end for Rodan for when he and Alasdair Temonas, a direct descendant of Dengas Temonas, the loyal bodyguard of Barthio, were born the same day and meant that the end of Rodan is to come.

He tried not to think about it, and watched the trade carts and merchants passing by. And every now and then he would see a patrol of soldiers, dressed in their armor and armed with their spears.

He saw Alasdair maneuvering his way past the crowd of people trying to get to their destinations. He then went into one of the shops and could be seen emerging from its back door, and then quickly climbed on a tree in front of Arts house and carefully jumped over the wall. He then ran towards their house but stopped at the tree when he had spotted Art sitting in it.

He climbed up and sat beside him and asked: “tell me, you are the emperor’s son and can afford to live in a nice little house in a quiet street in the White District, but you have to live in the busiest street in the busiest district! I mean, come on, I almost got killed out there!” Art grinned and replied: “Why? This way you’ll stay healthy! Oh, and if the guards see you next time, you would probably die, they would think your trying to assassinate us!” “Assassinate you? Ha! That’s a new one. Why would anyone want to dirty their sword or spear on you?!”

Ambrose Dameon stood inside his house looking at the two boys pushing and playing with each other in the tree. He let out a quiet sight and closed his eyes. A tear ran down his cheek. He wiped it of and opened his eyes. They were walking towards the gate, probably on one of their adventures again.

Ambrose was overwhelmed by sadness, how could two young boys at the age of fourteen be the bearers of such news? How could they survive knowing that they are marking the end of a civilization? He grew more proud of his son by every day that passes for knowing how his son could keep his fear from showing, but a full grown man, the emperor, cannot even bear the thought. He decided to visit the main temple in the white district.

He arrived a while later and stood at the entrance. It was a masterpiece of architectural work that was one of Rodartus most beautiful buildings. But the very same building held inside the large, smooth rock that had the inscription carved into it:

“Rodan shall thrive and grow, it shall become powerful, and it shall have many allies. Alas, there shall come a day were its beginning is repeated to cause the end. Rodan shall be destroyed when history is relived, when Rodans heroes come to make their last stand. All shall defend, all shall fight, and all shall die. When a descendant of Dameon and Temonas are born, they shall mark the beginning if the end. All shall defend, all shall fight and all shall die. Rodan shall exist no more.”

Ambrose entered the building and walked towards the stone which was laid into solid ground. It could not be dug out and cannot be broken. But he noticed a large crowd gathered around it. When the citizens saw the emperor approaching and opened up to let him pass. All had great smiles on their faces, some even crying of joy.

He did not understand what was going on until he saw two men that wore pitch black robes and white clothes that covered their mouth and nose. Only their hands and eyes showed. The were busy digging out the stone with black spades that had gold letters carved into it that glowed every time the spade touch the ground.

“How?” Ambrose fell to his knees. Rodan knew that the inscription had more to it. He asked the priest standing next to him how they could dig out the ground as if it was sand, and the priest replied that the spades were some special piece of equipment, and maybe had a dash of magic.

Art and Alasdair were on their way home after watching the soldiers that were training but people were running towards the white district. Alasdair spotted one of his friends, Annunzio, and grabbed him by his arm and asked: “what’s going on? Why are all these people in such a hurry?”

Annunzio looked at them and replied that two men have dug out the rock in the main temple. Art and Alasdair looked at each other and ran to the temple as fast as the could. The same thoughts were going trough their minds. “Do you think its going to announce something good this time?” art asked while they were running up the hill. “Maybe, or its just going to explain our end in absolute detail.” Alasdair smiled at art.

When they arrived there was a large crowd gathered at its entrance but soldiers were keeping them back. Art and Alasdair made their way past the crowd and eventually arrived at the entrance and were immediately let through by the guards. They saw Arts father reading the writing on the rock that was laid flat on the floor. They realized how big it actually was, since only half of it almost showed.

Ambrose turned around and smiled at his son. “Its good news, but I’ve heard better.” He said, and continued: “we have discovered that our end will not be caused by plague or Gea, the god of nature and weather, but by war. And we have a chance of survival, but only if we can find more allies to fight alongside our soldiers.”

Art and Alasdair had mixed feelings about this news; they have a chance of survival, but must fight in another war against a foe that can destroy civilizations? “There is yet more bad news. You and Alasdair are to go alone and find powerful allies, because not even the power of Rodan, Archan or the Pertainians combined can help us.

Only those who have ancestors that played a large roll in Rodans existence may assist you. Your friend, Annunzio, is one of them. The ancestor of the royal architects Archimedi. There are many people that are quite close to you both, but you don’t know how close.” Art looked at his father. “when do we leave?”