anthorn
Well-Known Member
Warning it is along post. Here is my two prologues, for my WIP, Any critisism welcome
PROLOGUE ONE.
This is a story....No, perhaps collection of stories would be a better term for it, for this is a tale about many peoples and things. Mostly though it is a story about a war and of love. And as with all war, all histories it is the V......I hesitate to say victors. But it is the survivors who will write it.
From the journal of Sarana Sarakus.
4009 2nd day of Jarran Midwinter.
The mountains sank into the thick mist as she followed the trail of ice and snow toward the skeletal forest line. She stopped, eyes blinking behind a porcelain mask. How long had it been? The sensations this time were curious, underneath her robes her skin tingled, hairs on her arms stood on end. It felt different last time. In her minds eye she mapped out her destination. Oaloa. I shall dwell in Oaloa.
The town was twenty or so miles south from where she stood now. Wind battered her frame, cut by the trees she stepped between. The journey can not be prosponed, she told herself, cold was just a feeling something that made the weak fear, made them expect death. Sabetha was not the weak she was the strong, the powerful. The Chosen.
Hours passed and the weather changed and changed again. The world is volatile, she thought, it wars against itself. Coming to the crest of a hill of rocks she paused once again to view the valley spreading out below like a 'V' and saw the range of ruins near its middle, a tower which was dwarfed only by the trees. Around it the snow was perfect, untouched. I walk paths yet untrodden. My destiny, my purpose. She crossed the valley, ignoring the onset of the blizzard blurring her vision, eventually the trees they fell away and Oaloa was revealed to her. First she saw the column of black smoke coming from its centre up toward the skies, then saw that the wooden walls surrounding the town had been sharpened into a deadly point, she saw last the four guards who patrolled its walls. They will take me to him. Sabetha raised herself to her full height, marching into their view with determination. A shout rang out drawing attention from the other guards toward her, more shouts followed, a warning and a sneer. She had come.
“Who are you, what do you want woman?” Said the guard who had first seen her, once they'd opened the gates to come to her.
She regarded them coldly, her expression hidden behind the mask, wondered why they pointed with sticks and not swords. No, not sticks, on second glance they were in fact metal, hollow metal with a knife at its top. New weapons? How much more has this world changed, what else is different?”
“Is she deaf?” said another when she hadn't replied.
“Might be. Look at that mask, probably hides some scars.”
“Only one way to be sure.” said the man who had spoken first, reaching for her face. Only to find himself being wrenched-pulled back through the air to land over nine foot away. Dead.
Turning to face the others they raised their hollow sticks at her. You're nothing but children to me.
“I....I think we should get out Lord.” Wise choice, she thought, not surprised to see one practically fall over to get away. “ The Lord Arkarm will make you suffer for hurting his men bitch.”
An hour went by then at last, he appeared, riding upon a black horse. The Warlord of Drakovia, Lord Arkarm. He is my destiny and I am his. He came towards them holding an air of arrogance about himself his head held high and his back rigidly straight. Dismounting he gave the reigns to his men then turned his gaze on her. His eyes were cold blue and his hair had been cut short enough that he appeared older than he was and his expressions looked cut from stone. He looked very much a Warlord and very much a man used to getting what he wants. “Who are you?” He spoke in a voice which could make a man shiver.
Sabetha knelt, bowed and spoke, her voice sounding dead behind her mask. “ I am Sabetha my lord, and I am a sorceress. I have come to give you the world.”
Lord Arkarm exchanged a look with his men, then smiled.
He is my Destiny as I am his.
PROLOGUE TWO.
My path is down a long and dust filled road with Iron bars either side.
I ride upon a horse, my legs as lame as my arms. My eyes are windows
to my soul and my soul is dead.
Unknown soldiers lament.
4004 24th day of Midear Late Spring.
Fire lit the darkening sky mapping the streets and alleys like blood, illuminated the hastily built walls to the poor quarter of the city. No gas lamp or false light lamps were alight this night or had been for some time. The Gargoyle, the only fortress still used for its intended purpose and named so for its hideous appearance stood almost as tall as the towers behind it, its men vigilant. It had only been a week, perhaps more since the riots had first begun but they showed little sign of abating yet.
The night was eerie silent, the wind nothing more than a breeze, the city was silent, still, waiting. The quiet before the storm. Terin Delnore, had made this journey uncounted times, navigating his way through bridges and stairs to reach the Gargoyles highest point, here he could see the entire city, could see the smoke rising ominously to the sky.
Armour clanking, he looked and saw a tall gaunt well built man come to the wall and lean against it. A Guardian. When the riots had gotten too much for the city Guards it had been them they called, so far the riots had only been contained. "Too young to be out this late, eh boy?"
"I'm nearly seven."
"Young enough still for the kiddie catcher."
Terin screwed up his face, "no such thing, rumours that's all"
"Rumours? All rumours have their basis in truth boy." The Guardian said and sighed.
"You're a Guardian I want to be a Guardian, a hero."
"You'll grow out of it. I did." The man said looking up at the moon, it would be full tonight he mused. The wind picked up hitting the walls of the Gargoyle and making eerie whistling noises through its cracks. The old Guardian grinned and yawned then spat over the edge. "That's your kind down there boy, the rioters, not the noble born. Do you know why they riot?"
Terin shook his head.
"Because your Governors a dick," he spat again, " your army is crap, can't even subdue some ******* peasants."
"Neither could you."
"We will, mark my words boy we will. We're Guardians it's what we do, up hold the peace and all that. Guardians eh, once the protectors of the weak, the last stand against Anwyn during the Great War, now nothing more than people who clean up after stupid rulers."
"You're heroes."
"We were lad we were, not anymore though." He sighed.
"I want to be a hero like the ones from my stories like Auron the Dragon slayer, or Yepithamy, founder of the Council and bane to the Endlords."
"Yepithamy? Don't make me laugh kid," he smiled and shook his head. "The Council of Alexiamdra aint naught but a myth, a rumour. Where are they now eh?"
"And Garrison Grey he'll be a hero." Terin continued oblivious to the mans words.
The Council of Alexiamdra, the secret ruler of the world and yet unseen for centuries. It was said Kings, Queens and Warlords all danced to their tunes, he didn't know how much of that was true but knew there was no way to prove it. "All rumours have a basis in truth." He muttered under his breath. Somewhere in the poor quarter a light flashed and a dull boom followed. Several more rumblings soon followed.
"Commander!" A voice called, a woman's voice and they both turned to see the new arrival. Like the man the woman was tall but slim and a hood concealed her face while a sword hung at her side. "The city burns and you spend all your time with this child? I hear your men are dying down there, it should be your job to die with them."
"It's open to interpretation. This boy wants to be a Guardian."
"A hero!" piped in the child.
"Is that so? Well then perhaps he should see what it is we do. We have her, commander. We have the sorceress."
"When?"
"An hour ago. She's being brought in as we speak."
The Commander waited until the woman had gone then let his shoulders sag. "Come along then boy," he sighed.
**********************************************************
The would be Sorceress was dragged into the centre yard naked and bruised and bloody. "This here is evil," said the woman Terin had seen earlier. "This woman has broken century old laws and has the Taint. She must be sterilised before she goes mad and kills us all."
"Watch carefully boy. Watch what we do." Said the Commander.
"You saw what that war almost did to us. What her kind did. This must not happen again!" The woman cried.
Terin stood transfixed as from the stables a man came holding an iron staff. At the top was a red almond shaped crystal held between pincers and at the bottom was a red hot branding iron. The gathered soldiers stepped aside and the red hot iron was thrust down on her breasts. The woman screamed and screamed and the smell of smoked flesh permiated the air. Forced onto her back the man inserted the pincer inside her and the crystal left behind. Twisting the iron around he then pressed the branding iron down on to the flesh. The woman screamed a heart wrenching scream and fell silent, her body convulsing in the dirt.
"Still want to be a Guardian?" The commander said as the others carried the woman away.
"I want to be a hero."
"Then listen closely to my words boy! The world is not a world of Dragon slayers and heroes and villains, it is a place of grey and nothing as clear cut as them words you read. You can do good things doing bad things and bad things doing good things, understand?" he remembered the woman's screams. " You'll be a better hero if you live a life that's quiet and unnoticed."
"Are you a hero?"
Scratching his chin the commander sighed once more. " No lad, honest opinion? Heroes all died out before we was born."
Terin considered the implications. " So you're a villain?"
He sighed again. " It would appear so lad it would appear so."
PROLOGUE ONE.
This is a story....No, perhaps collection of stories would be a better term for it, for this is a tale about many peoples and things. Mostly though it is a story about a war and of love. And as with all war, all histories it is the V......I hesitate to say victors. But it is the survivors who will write it.
From the journal of Sarana Sarakus.
4009 2nd day of Jarran Midwinter.
The mountains sank into the thick mist as she followed the trail of ice and snow toward the skeletal forest line. She stopped, eyes blinking behind a porcelain mask. How long had it been? The sensations this time were curious, underneath her robes her skin tingled, hairs on her arms stood on end. It felt different last time. In her minds eye she mapped out her destination. Oaloa. I shall dwell in Oaloa.
The town was twenty or so miles south from where she stood now. Wind battered her frame, cut by the trees she stepped between. The journey can not be prosponed, she told herself, cold was just a feeling something that made the weak fear, made them expect death. Sabetha was not the weak she was the strong, the powerful. The Chosen.
Hours passed and the weather changed and changed again. The world is volatile, she thought, it wars against itself. Coming to the crest of a hill of rocks she paused once again to view the valley spreading out below like a 'V' and saw the range of ruins near its middle, a tower which was dwarfed only by the trees. Around it the snow was perfect, untouched. I walk paths yet untrodden. My destiny, my purpose. She crossed the valley, ignoring the onset of the blizzard blurring her vision, eventually the trees they fell away and Oaloa was revealed to her. First she saw the column of black smoke coming from its centre up toward the skies, then saw that the wooden walls surrounding the town had been sharpened into a deadly point, she saw last the four guards who patrolled its walls. They will take me to him. Sabetha raised herself to her full height, marching into their view with determination. A shout rang out drawing attention from the other guards toward her, more shouts followed, a warning and a sneer. She had come.
“Who are you, what do you want woman?” Said the guard who had first seen her, once they'd opened the gates to come to her.
She regarded them coldly, her expression hidden behind the mask, wondered why they pointed with sticks and not swords. No, not sticks, on second glance they were in fact metal, hollow metal with a knife at its top. New weapons? How much more has this world changed, what else is different?”
“Is she deaf?” said another when she hadn't replied.
“Might be. Look at that mask, probably hides some scars.”
“Only one way to be sure.” said the man who had spoken first, reaching for her face. Only to find himself being wrenched-pulled back through the air to land over nine foot away. Dead.
Turning to face the others they raised their hollow sticks at her. You're nothing but children to me.
“I....I think we should get out Lord.” Wise choice, she thought, not surprised to see one practically fall over to get away. “ The Lord Arkarm will make you suffer for hurting his men bitch.”
An hour went by then at last, he appeared, riding upon a black horse. The Warlord of Drakovia, Lord Arkarm. He is my destiny and I am his. He came towards them holding an air of arrogance about himself his head held high and his back rigidly straight. Dismounting he gave the reigns to his men then turned his gaze on her. His eyes were cold blue and his hair had been cut short enough that he appeared older than he was and his expressions looked cut from stone. He looked very much a Warlord and very much a man used to getting what he wants. “Who are you?” He spoke in a voice which could make a man shiver.
Sabetha knelt, bowed and spoke, her voice sounding dead behind her mask. “ I am Sabetha my lord, and I am a sorceress. I have come to give you the world.”
Lord Arkarm exchanged a look with his men, then smiled.
He is my Destiny as I am his.
PROLOGUE TWO.
My path is down a long and dust filled road with Iron bars either side.
I ride upon a horse, my legs as lame as my arms. My eyes are windows
to my soul and my soul is dead.
Unknown soldiers lament.
4004 24th day of Midear Late Spring.
Fire lit the darkening sky mapping the streets and alleys like blood, illuminated the hastily built walls to the poor quarter of the city. No gas lamp or false light lamps were alight this night or had been for some time. The Gargoyle, the only fortress still used for its intended purpose and named so for its hideous appearance stood almost as tall as the towers behind it, its men vigilant. It had only been a week, perhaps more since the riots had first begun but they showed little sign of abating yet.
The night was eerie silent, the wind nothing more than a breeze, the city was silent, still, waiting. The quiet before the storm. Terin Delnore, had made this journey uncounted times, navigating his way through bridges and stairs to reach the Gargoyles highest point, here he could see the entire city, could see the smoke rising ominously to the sky.
Armour clanking, he looked and saw a tall gaunt well built man come to the wall and lean against it. A Guardian. When the riots had gotten too much for the city Guards it had been them they called, so far the riots had only been contained. "Too young to be out this late, eh boy?"
"I'm nearly seven."
"Young enough still for the kiddie catcher."
Terin screwed up his face, "no such thing, rumours that's all"
"Rumours? All rumours have their basis in truth boy." The Guardian said and sighed.
"You're a Guardian I want to be a Guardian, a hero."
"You'll grow out of it. I did." The man said looking up at the moon, it would be full tonight he mused. The wind picked up hitting the walls of the Gargoyle and making eerie whistling noises through its cracks. The old Guardian grinned and yawned then spat over the edge. "That's your kind down there boy, the rioters, not the noble born. Do you know why they riot?"
Terin shook his head.
"Because your Governors a dick," he spat again, " your army is crap, can't even subdue some ******* peasants."
"Neither could you."
"We will, mark my words boy we will. We're Guardians it's what we do, up hold the peace and all that. Guardians eh, once the protectors of the weak, the last stand against Anwyn during the Great War, now nothing more than people who clean up after stupid rulers."
"You're heroes."
"We were lad we were, not anymore though." He sighed.
"I want to be a hero like the ones from my stories like Auron the Dragon slayer, or Yepithamy, founder of the Council and bane to the Endlords."
"Yepithamy? Don't make me laugh kid," he smiled and shook his head. "The Council of Alexiamdra aint naught but a myth, a rumour. Where are they now eh?"
"And Garrison Grey he'll be a hero." Terin continued oblivious to the mans words.
The Council of Alexiamdra, the secret ruler of the world and yet unseen for centuries. It was said Kings, Queens and Warlords all danced to their tunes, he didn't know how much of that was true but knew there was no way to prove it. "All rumours have a basis in truth." He muttered under his breath. Somewhere in the poor quarter a light flashed and a dull boom followed. Several more rumblings soon followed.
"Commander!" A voice called, a woman's voice and they both turned to see the new arrival. Like the man the woman was tall but slim and a hood concealed her face while a sword hung at her side. "The city burns and you spend all your time with this child? I hear your men are dying down there, it should be your job to die with them."
"It's open to interpretation. This boy wants to be a Guardian."
"A hero!" piped in the child.
"Is that so? Well then perhaps he should see what it is we do. We have her, commander. We have the sorceress."
"When?"
"An hour ago. She's being brought in as we speak."
The Commander waited until the woman had gone then let his shoulders sag. "Come along then boy," he sighed.
**********************************************************
The would be Sorceress was dragged into the centre yard naked and bruised and bloody. "This here is evil," said the woman Terin had seen earlier. "This woman has broken century old laws and has the Taint. She must be sterilised before she goes mad and kills us all."
"Watch carefully boy. Watch what we do." Said the Commander.
"You saw what that war almost did to us. What her kind did. This must not happen again!" The woman cried.
Terin stood transfixed as from the stables a man came holding an iron staff. At the top was a red almond shaped crystal held between pincers and at the bottom was a red hot branding iron. The gathered soldiers stepped aside and the red hot iron was thrust down on her breasts. The woman screamed and screamed and the smell of smoked flesh permiated the air. Forced onto her back the man inserted the pincer inside her and the crystal left behind. Twisting the iron around he then pressed the branding iron down on to the flesh. The woman screamed a heart wrenching scream and fell silent, her body convulsing in the dirt.
"Still want to be a Guardian?" The commander said as the others carried the woman away.
"I want to be a hero."
"Then listen closely to my words boy! The world is not a world of Dragon slayers and heroes and villains, it is a place of grey and nothing as clear cut as them words you read. You can do good things doing bad things and bad things doing good things, understand?" he remembered the woman's screams. " You'll be a better hero if you live a life that's quiet and unnoticed."
"Are you a hero?"
Scratching his chin the commander sighed once more. " No lad, honest opinion? Heroes all died out before we was born."
Terin considered the implications. " So you're a villain?"
He sighed again. " It would appear so lad it would appear so."
