Post by albel on Sept 5, 2008 21:55:58 GMT
(A short story I will be making up as I go. If you have any comments, please PM me, or at the very least put them in the shoutbox. Posting here will interrupt the story's flow. This includes suggestions and hate mail.)
-THE SEEKERS-
A serious fantasy novel set in a war-torn land. Unlilkely heroes and clichés aplenty. Enjoy, folks. ^^
- CHAPTER 1 - Wanderers -
Sunset came, but the troupe continued, showing no signs of wanting to stop. The horse pulling the cart was drenched in sweat, but still the whip came down, urging it onwards. The driver shouted instructions to the poor animal, which occasionally whinnied in protest, earning it another lashing.
Inside the cart were seven people. Three to the left side, three to the right, and of course, the iron-fisted driver. The eldest, a man in his mid-70s, clutched at a wooden cane, his old fist shaking with the effort. Small sparks appeared every so often at the end of the cane, then promplty disappeared, as if they never were. Next to him was a woman around the same age, who was watching nervously, her eyes wide and staring. She too held a wooden cane, but hers was laid across her lap, her hand merely resting upon it.
At the opposite end of the cart, the youngest, a girl of around ten, began to cry again. Cold tears streamed down her soft face, which then met resistance in the form of her tunic, which she dabbed at her sodden visage. Next to her, a boy had his arm round her and was hushing comforts for her. The last person on that side was another young man, this one in his early-20s. He was wearing an odd sort of armour and had his arms crossed, his eyes staring into space. The final person within the cart was a young girl, around fifteen, who was switching from nervously watching what the old man was doing, and at the younger girl across from her.
In the front, the driver turned.
"We about ready to stop, lady?"
The old woman turned her head, then shook it, prompting a profanity from the lips of the driver, who took out his anger on the overworked horse. The old woman turned back to the older man, who had finished whatever he had been doing.
"I believe we have lost them. There is no life within twenty-five miles of this cart."
He then coughed, his whole body shaking violently. The way he spasmed made it seem like he was having some sort of fit. Whilst he couldn't stop the noises, he did remedy it slightly, by covering his mouth with a dirty rag. Once he had stopped, he replaced the rag in the inner folds of his robes and smiled weakly at his wife.
"Not long now, my love."
"Don't say that. There has to be a cure!"
The armoured boy laughed. It was a chilling laugh, one that sent shivers down the family's spine. The girl had even stopped crying.
"If there were a cure, ought not he have found it by now? Save me this melodrama and accept the inevitable."
The old man's eyes bored into the boy, who, had he bothered to return the stare, would've seen a determination that probably would've shocked him.
"We WILL find a cure. And while I do not appreciate your tone, I...hmph...what point does fighting do?"
The cart once again fell into silence. The boy retained his smirk and the girl again started to sob. The driver again turned toward the occupants.
"We'll be near Feltzah in about two hours. Got any other destinations in mind or-"
"No, Feltzah will do, thank you."
"Hope ya've got enough to cover this trip. You certainly don't LOOK wealthy!"
The driver went back to his job, leaving behind another silence.
"Grampa...I'm hungy."
It was the small girl who had spoken. Her eyes were still wet from the tears, her cheeks owning small lines where she had attempted to brush them aside.
"Hmm...all we got is Valkos bread...and that tastes like a Minka's backside!"
The girl giggled, taking what little joy there was to offer. After this, the atmosphere in the cart seemed to lessen, prompting otherwise silent members of the family to voice their concerns.
The older girl bickered for a while with the younger boy about something the other family members quickly lost interest in. Soon enough, the conversation turned to the armoured man.
"So why ARE you travelling along with us?" The little girl asked.
"I chose to."
"That's it?"
"...I'm also trying to find someone."
"Who?"
The armoured boy sneered. "Why should you care?" He snapped.
This started off the waterworks again. The driver shot around.
"Why the heck did ya do that for? Do you think that little of these people?"
"Silence. Just drive, as your job says you do."
"You know what?! Screw you!"
The cart rolled to a stop, and the driver hopped down. The horse promptly collapsed, but this story isn't about the horse.
"Get out of my f***ing cart, kid!" Roared the driver, his head barely reaching the seat the passengers were sitting upon.
The boy did so, marching out smarmily, as if he didn't really care.
He hopped down, his armour rattling, landing on the driver's foot.
"ARRGGHHH! Ya great lummox! Go on, go! I ain't gonna ferry someone as rude and obnoxious as you, you little maggot!"
Soon after, the cart was driving away, minus one passenger. By now, the sun had completely set, casting the land into deep blackness. The lad muttered something, which caused his eyes to start glowing. He then started to walk, making his way to the west (or to the left of where the cart was going), having previous knowledge of this land.
Zark lay in that direction, a small shanty town full of theives and cut-throats. He could restock there, and then on his quest. From the inside of his armour came a small gemstone. It didn't shine like it would've done had it been daylight, instead inspiring a dull glimmer. He casually replaced the stone and continued his walk towards town.
-END OF CHAPTER 1-
-THE SEEKERS-
A serious fantasy novel set in a war-torn land. Unlilkely heroes and clichés aplenty. Enjoy, folks. ^^
- CHAPTER 1 - Wanderers -
Sunset came, but the troupe continued, showing no signs of wanting to stop. The horse pulling the cart was drenched in sweat, but still the whip came down, urging it onwards. The driver shouted instructions to the poor animal, which occasionally whinnied in protest, earning it another lashing.
Inside the cart were seven people. Three to the left side, three to the right, and of course, the iron-fisted driver. The eldest, a man in his mid-70s, clutched at a wooden cane, his old fist shaking with the effort. Small sparks appeared every so often at the end of the cane, then promplty disappeared, as if they never were. Next to him was a woman around the same age, who was watching nervously, her eyes wide and staring. She too held a wooden cane, but hers was laid across her lap, her hand merely resting upon it.
At the opposite end of the cart, the youngest, a girl of around ten, began to cry again. Cold tears streamed down her soft face, which then met resistance in the form of her tunic, which she dabbed at her sodden visage. Next to her, a boy had his arm round her and was hushing comforts for her. The last person on that side was another young man, this one in his early-20s. He was wearing an odd sort of armour and had his arms crossed, his eyes staring into space. The final person within the cart was a young girl, around fifteen, who was switching from nervously watching what the old man was doing, and at the younger girl across from her.
In the front, the driver turned.
"We about ready to stop, lady?"
The old woman turned her head, then shook it, prompting a profanity from the lips of the driver, who took out his anger on the overworked horse. The old woman turned back to the older man, who had finished whatever he had been doing.
"I believe we have lost them. There is no life within twenty-five miles of this cart."
He then coughed, his whole body shaking violently. The way he spasmed made it seem like he was having some sort of fit. Whilst he couldn't stop the noises, he did remedy it slightly, by covering his mouth with a dirty rag. Once he had stopped, he replaced the rag in the inner folds of his robes and smiled weakly at his wife.
"Not long now, my love."
"Don't say that. There has to be a cure!"
The armoured boy laughed. It was a chilling laugh, one that sent shivers down the family's spine. The girl had even stopped crying.
"If there were a cure, ought not he have found it by now? Save me this melodrama and accept the inevitable."
The old man's eyes bored into the boy, who, had he bothered to return the stare, would've seen a determination that probably would've shocked him.
"We WILL find a cure. And while I do not appreciate your tone, I...hmph...what point does fighting do?"
The cart once again fell into silence. The boy retained his smirk and the girl again started to sob. The driver again turned toward the occupants.
"We'll be near Feltzah in about two hours. Got any other destinations in mind or-"
"No, Feltzah will do, thank you."
"Hope ya've got enough to cover this trip. You certainly don't LOOK wealthy!"
The driver went back to his job, leaving behind another silence.
"Grampa...I'm hungy."
It was the small girl who had spoken. Her eyes were still wet from the tears, her cheeks owning small lines where she had attempted to brush them aside.
"Hmm...all we got is Valkos bread...and that tastes like a Minka's backside!"
The girl giggled, taking what little joy there was to offer. After this, the atmosphere in the cart seemed to lessen, prompting otherwise silent members of the family to voice their concerns.
The older girl bickered for a while with the younger boy about something the other family members quickly lost interest in. Soon enough, the conversation turned to the armoured man.
"So why ARE you travelling along with us?" The little girl asked.
"I chose to."
"That's it?"
"...I'm also trying to find someone."
"Who?"
The armoured boy sneered. "Why should you care?" He snapped.
This started off the waterworks again. The driver shot around.
"Why the heck did ya do that for? Do you think that little of these people?"
"Silence. Just drive, as your job says you do."
"You know what?! Screw you!"
The cart rolled to a stop, and the driver hopped down. The horse promptly collapsed, but this story isn't about the horse.
"Get out of my f***ing cart, kid!" Roared the driver, his head barely reaching the seat the passengers were sitting upon.
The boy did so, marching out smarmily, as if he didn't really care.
He hopped down, his armour rattling, landing on the driver's foot.
"ARRGGHHH! Ya great lummox! Go on, go! I ain't gonna ferry someone as rude and obnoxious as you, you little maggot!"
Soon after, the cart was driving away, minus one passenger. By now, the sun had completely set, casting the land into deep blackness. The lad muttered something, which caused his eyes to start glowing. He then started to walk, making his way to the west (or to the left of where the cart was going), having previous knowledge of this land.
Zark lay in that direction, a small shanty town full of theives and cut-throats. He could restock there, and then on his quest. From the inside of his armour came a small gemstone. It didn't shine like it would've done had it been daylight, instead inspiring a dull glimmer. He casually replaced the stone and continued his walk towards town.
-END OF CHAPTER 1-