Sword fight, whoo!

             As he slashed viciously at Marco he struck only cloth, tearing through Marco's shirt but missing his body. He lost his footing and stumbled past as Marco strafed to his left. Luckily for Pierre he was quick on his feet and managed to sumersault forwards instead of falling, but dropped his rapier in the process. He twisted his body with great vigor and managed to swing himself back around on the cold, marble floor. As he looked up he saw Marco's blade gleaming in the torchlight and rolled quickly to his right, but his forearm was still struck by Marco's rapier. "Tch," he moaned as he landed back on his feet and sprung up, quickly charging Marco's side and knocking him to the floor, Marco's rapier spinning in the air as he lost his grip. Both disarmed, the rolled around for half a minute, Pierre managing to end up on top struck powerfully with his right fist, connecting with great vigor to Marco's brow. "Gah!" Marco shouted, rolling left and shoving Pierre with all his might. He managed to break free from Pierre and darted towards to closest of the two swords. Pierre noticed, lurched to his feet, and dashed behind Marco, slid to stop himself with Marco's blade at his toes.

              He knelt down and grabbed it, turned 180 degrees, and faced Marco. Wielding one another's rapier they stared one another down for a second, then jumped at one another striking full force. Clang! Ching! Shhhwing! They struck at one another, parrying each and every attack the other threw at them. Marco struck left, Pierre slammed his blade down against Marco's, they met, slid across one another, and departed. The metal duo almost seemed to share a magnetic bond, pulling them together again and again. Finally, Marco's foot slid out beneath him as it caught the Persian rug behind him. A disgusting sound echoed through the hallway as his throat met with his own blade, slitting it wide open. He fell to his knees, dropping Pierre's blade, gurgling and gasping for air, then hit the floor with the full weight of his body as his throat oozed with blood.

              Pierre stepped on his back, reached down, and retrieved his weapon with his free hand. "This does not belong to you," he said, "however, this does." And with that he jammed Marco's blade into his back, his body twitched one last time, and he went silent. Thus, his lord would fall. Pierre would find him, corner him as he attempted to escape, and proclaim a final victory for Orfiria. However, King Kelvin Winner III would give all the glory to Gustav Marquise, as he was far more apt towards the role of a hero. The Grand Marshall, Lord Gustav, had taken out half of Monhiem's army with his company alone, and had the looks of a rugged warrior, wielding a gigantic claymore and clad in heavy steel plate. Knight-Captain Pierre wore only rugged leather and wielded a rapier, he was the people's hero, but the armies of Orfiria needed a more suiting image.

              So, why tell of Pierre's feats and not of Gustav's? Because every historian has written of Gustav, exaggerated his feats and embellished his heroism. Pierre, however, was a noble, upright soldier. He believed in chivalry to the letter, unlike Gustav who spoke only when spoken to, struck fear into the hearts of his enemies and comrades alike, yet, still provoked that need to better one's self that a hero needed. Pierre has always been the hero in my eyes, for he fought with true nobility and honor, unlike Gustav whom merely killed who he was told, fought who he was told, and would have died for his king if he was told he must. Pierre's story is unique, from where I leave you here the rest of his story has been told. The legend of Casval Rhestian, the "Bandit King" that led the guerilla attacks against Orfiria as they marched towards the Holy Capital City of Forlornis ring a bell? You see, after Orfiria's first victory King Hector Melrose went mad with power and Pierre saw this well. He changed his name and rallied "bandits" from all over the western world.

              The "bandits" of course were mercenaries, ex-soldiers, and remnants of Orfiria's conquest. Why did they disappear when Orfiria reached the borders of Forlornia, you ask? They disappeared from the history books, from text archives, yes, however they still fought valiantly disguised as Forlornian soldiers. If not for them the Holy Capital would have fallen, in my opinion, but as this was so many centuries ago it's impossible to know. How, you ask, did I uncover any proof of all of this? Pierre's diary was found in the Tomb of the Bandit King which was unearthed by an archeology team I had been traveling with, uncovering ancient secrets of the western world.

11:25 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

FAILED

Removed for epic fail. Will be redone correctly sometime eventually maybe.

9:05 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Become a NewType!

Awareness.

1:56 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Because I can!

Lotus Concerto

(I adore you)

              "Never let your dreams die, never give up on the one you love." She said, twirling her long brunette locks around her finger and staring aimlessly at the wall. She cocked her head sideways and shifter those beautiful blue eyes that radiated with elegance at me. "What are your dreams, Sir Knight? Of course you can't have any love for the princess, but I wonder who your heart could be set on. Not a noble, either, no, that's just not suiting. It must be someone from the slums, mmhmm; it's your style to fall for someone less fortunate. Someone you can give endlessly to without expecting anything in return." She rambled on, turning her head straight and focusing completely on me. She blew up the air, tossing her slanted bangs into disarray.

              I laughed slightly. "Well, my beautiful friend from the slums, perhaps I get more from the woman I love than she could ever realize. I've never even bothered to see how she feels for me, but the fact that she comes to see me from time to time is more than enough. I'm so simple, aren't I?" I asked, shaking my head. "As for my dreams, well, they're to spread happiness through the world with whatever means I have available to me. This pen," I said pulling a pen from my pocket. A simple silver pen with the initials B.W. on it, then continued, "is my greatest ally in the battle for obtaining such dreams. Even if all I do is scribble little comic strips for the Sunday paper." I finished and put the pen back in my pocket.

              "That pen is greatest ally?" She asked, giggling. I ran my hand through my shaggy, dark blond hair and leaned back looking at the ceiling. "What's so funny about that?" I asked. "It was a present from a silly girl meant as a joke! And you use it still, you're very fond of it!"

              "True, you gave it to me after I knocked some guy out for harassing you telling me, 'The pen is mightier than the sword, Sir Knight! I appreciate you saving me, but I've seen you hit many people…that's no good, Sir Knight. Chivalry is a knight's code!' Which, mind you, lead to the end of my days as a high school ruffian with no purpose or direction." I explained, though she knew the story well. It was one of her favorite memories, I've been told.

              "You tried to save me, but because of such a pointless gift you ended up saving yourself!" She exclaimed, hopping out of her seat for a second. "No, you saved me, milady." I said in return, but she immediately shook her head violently. "I'm no one special, don't give me a fancy title. Mm-mm! No good!"

              "My apologies, dearest Leila." I said, hoping she'd accept the word dearest before her name, surprisingly she nodded in acceptance. "Now, might I ask you, what are you dreams? Who's the one you love, you who's been single since the day we met." I questioned, hoping to press the answer I knew to be true, but second guessed myself nonetheless.

              "My dreams? My dream is…to kiss the one I love! Yup. Not much of a dream, is it?" She asked, bowing her head in shame.

              "I think it's a wonderful dream, but, I think you're gonna need more dreams after you fulfill that one, but when did you start to think about grown up things like kissing?" I asked sincerely.

              "Is it weird that I'm so childish? Maybe he won't kiss me, since he's known me so long and knows how silly I am." She said, her head sinking lower. I got up out of my chair and walked to the other side of the table, reaching out and putting my hand on her check. She looked at me, her radiant blue eyes meeting my dull green eyes. Her eyes slowly closed, I closed mine and leaned in and kissed her softly. She leaned back and looked me in the eyes, almost as if asking "What took you so long?" and in reply, though she never truly said anything, I said "Maybe he was just waiting until she was ready for such things."

              "Sir Knight," she said smiling with a tear in her eye, "I set you up for that one. I knew you'd kiss me."

              "Of course you did, I've been in love with you for six long years, patiently waiting until you were ready for a relationship." I said back, smiling softly at her.

              "I was ready so long ago, you just didn't know. Is it okay that I'm so strange," She asked. "I don't know how to act my age, I'm so scared of everything." She stated, wide eyed.

              "Of course, I love you. No matter what you think is wrong with you I'll love you and accept every bit of you." She leapt from her chair and wrapped her arms around me, mine instinctively enveloping her.

              "Brock Winners, I love you." She said, sobbing.

"I love you, Leila Klein. I adore you." I replied, holding her close as possible without squishing her. We stayed like this for awhile, just holding one another in the setting never described by the author.

12:56 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Too bad this is fiction, I make a great main character

              Long, blue curls and short, messy bangs. Shining violet lips curled perfectly around the slender cylinder that made up the butt end of an unlit cigarette. Gleaming golden eyes, obviously fake, but delicious none the less topped with lashes that seemed as though the never ended. A kitty collar, orchid, around her throat. No straps, just bare, slender, shoulders and silky white skin leading down to a beautiful white jacket with azure fur around the top and the cuffs. A stripe of black with a rose pattern inside it leading down the center of the jacket, the buttons unseen but holding together perfectly. And that skirt, how short it seemed, but damn did it block perverts from what they sought! Oh, how it dangled over those thighs, those legs that never ended. Shame they were covered, but only by white fishnets with azure ribbons in white lace around the tops. And the almost knee high, white platform boots she wore had more rungs of for laces than one could count with the naked eye alone.

              At first glance she was more than I could ever work up the nerve to speak to, but after that close inspection I couldn't stop myself. This girl was so out of place, the whole damned library was staring. Staring, staring, staring. I couldn't stomach it; these were stares that something so beautiful should never face. Frightened and disturbed, bewildered and confused, I couldn't stand it! I got up, making more noise than I'd realized and adverting all eyes to me, but only for a second, and made my way over to her. Somehow I'd missed the fact that she was carrying a book, go testosterone! I glanced at the book for a second, recognizing it instantly, then opened my mouth without a second thought. My brain had shut itself off, if it hadn't I would have walked right past her and left that place with endless sorrow tormenting me.

              "Dropping it off, eh? I assume that means you read it." I blurted out in a calm manner, yet, with that bewildered look still plastered on my face.

              "None of your business, creep." She replied colder than the Arctic Circle.

              "Just wondering, I don't know anyone else that's read it. MZD's work must be beyond the comprehension of most people. But, I suppose you didn't actually read it either, so it must be beyond yours as well, shame." I snapped, then proceeded to walk outside without looking back. "Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!" the words echoed through my head for a seemingly endless amount of time, but all I'd done was walk through a door, pull out a smoke, and light it. By the time I'd managed to get my lighter back in my pocket the library door opened behind me and someone walked out. I could hear their footsteps as they approached me, it had to be her. It sounded like boots that were a pain in the ass to walk in.

              "I forgot my damned lighter, I think you should let me borrow yours, oh intellectual superior!" She said snidely. I absent mindedly pulled it from my pocket and handed it to her, still lecturing myself in my head. "So, should I bother picking up Whalestoe or did the book cover it well enough on its own?" She asked, handing back the lighter. I looked at it, a simple blue Bic. As I wondered as to what kind of fancy lighter a smokin' babe like her with such a wicked style would carry her words registered in my head.

              "Yeah, it's missing a few letters, so I would. You gotta suck every last drop out of that story, don't you? It was so damned addictive, more so than this cigarette." I stated, holding the cigarette out in front of me with the cherry pointed at the sky. She smiled, looking me up and down. From my Osiris Targas and blue jeans with missing knees, up to my random black Jnco shirt I got as a present, which I hoped would earn me points for the skull, all the way up through my goatee and scruffy face to my shaggy dishwater blond hair, which was messy as all hell. Damned cowlicks!

              "You look like just the type for that book, don't you? Somewhere between grunge, metal head, and just don't give a flying fuck." She said, a smile still on her face.

              "I have no idea how to talk to women, will you be my friend?" My mouth shot out, intentionally, but at the same time without thought. I winced immediately after.

              She laughed and said, "I'm famished. Perhaps we should dine together and I'll decide, how about it hotshot?" I jumped up and slammed my arm down in victory, though I'd only won the word "CHANCE" and not the real deal it was still worth it.

              "Sounds absolutely amazing. Want to go to, uhhh, how about uhh, shit, where do I eat with such a magnificent creature? Why did I say that out loud? Because I'm an idiot, Lillian's sound good?" I asked, acting like a complete fool. But, the Audioslave lyrics "Be yourself is all that you can do," rang through my head so I said hell, go for it. Lies only lead to more lies which only lead further down the path of negative karma, so no way I was going there. She laughed so hard she dropped her cigarette.

              "Lillian's sound wonderful!" She said with tears welling up in her eyes, I had her laughing hard.

              "Oh, and uhh yeah I forgot how to get there, so can I follow you there?" I was continuing down the path of the blubbering fool, but hell, she'd find out eventually.

              "Yes, you may." She replied, bending down and picking up her cigarette. Mine was in my hand, the cherry had fallen and it was more so just a butt, but all the same.

              "Shall we, then?" I asked, hoping she wasn't poking at my poor grammar.

              "We shall, come along." She said, putting out her cigarette in the can next to the door and walking towards the parking lot. I thought to myself, "Your on your way to victory! You may have yourself a…uhh…new friend. Eh, if it all works out she might end up more than that, and damnit she's hot. So hot…"

              "Your name?" She asked, as I followed. "Spencer," I replied. "And yours?" "Azalea." She said back. "Beautiful." I said, realizing my keys were still sitting on the table with my books back inside the library. "Uh oh," I said, thinking to myself that I was a complete and total moron.

12:53 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Nothing else matters.

Present day. Present time.

11:41 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

I like using the same characters and throwing them into different worlds I guess...

              Illicia pressed a Fifty-Cent piece firmly to Artesia's forehead and began tracing it along with a razor blade. She made short cuts as she traced it along the porcelain skin of the girl kneeling before her, half bent over to reach, leaving small "dashes" of uncut flesh between them. As she traced it two-thirds of the way around, leaving the gap on the side of Artesia's forehead to her left, she pull the coin from her forehead and smiled wickedly. She patted Artesia's soft brunette hair, tied into a sloppy pony tail with a head band to hold her bangs back. Illicia wiped the sweat from her brow on the sleeve of her pale blue blouse and grabbed a wet rag, wiping the blood from Artesia's. She once again pressed the razor to Artesia's silky forehead. She continued cutting around the inner circle in the same fashion, leaving small dashes of flesh between the cuts.

              Illicia's face tensed and she careful carved the rest of the body and the tip of the tail of a snake onto Artesia's forehead. She wiped the blood from Artesia's forehead once more and began to carve a snake's head and small teeth in its mouth, nearly ingesting its own tail, with painstaking effort. Her slender, soft fingers gripped the razor so tightly they had turned pure red. As she finished carving the teeth she grabbed for her rag, dipped it in the small plastic bowl of water she had and rang it out. The water that drained from the rag was a light red, the water in the bowl slowly becoming a sea of red itself. She wiped off Artesia's forehead once more and tossed the rag back to the bowl, half landing on the brim half inside.

              Artesia winced in pain for the first time as Illicia slowly carved the top of a bat wing on the right side of the snake, then the bottom, but never connecting the two as to prevent any peeling of the skin. "I'm sorry my love, but this is the only way to do it. Your blood must be drawn." To Illicia's surprise she giggled just slightly. "Pun," Artesia muttered softly afterwards. As the razor came down to draw the wing on the left side of the snake Artesia's fists, tied to the legs of the table behind her, clenched violently. Her pale while skin bruised horrendously where the rope was tied around her wrists, already showing vividly. As Illicia finished the left wing she said, "Only the cross remains, it's almost over, love."

              She pressed the razor to the top of the inner circle inside the snake and brought it down just over half way, lifted it for a split second, then pressed back down and cut her way to the bottom. Proceeding from the right side of the snake she cut across to the left, lifting the razor for a split second in the middle, and proceeded to the edge where the mouth was "drawn." Artesia's forehead was now forever scarred with the engraving of Ouroboros, wrapped around and upside-down cross. Artesia harshly sighed, her black blouse collapsing over her small breasts, though each still a handful, and dropped her head forwards. The pain was the only problem, not the scarring.

              Illicia grabbed for the rag once more, rang it out, and wiped the blood from Artesia's forehead. She then tossed the rag back in the bowl, sitting on a waist-high table next to her, and bent down to reach for the knife holstered to her ankle. Her arm brushed slightly against her black skirt, dangling just about her ankles as she withdrew the small, three inch blade and raised it to the right roped around Artesia's wrist. She cut through the side of the rope, careful not to come too close to Artesia's ivory skin with the blade, and then proceeded to cut the other wrist free. Artesia fell forwards and connected with Illicia, whom failed to catch her. She fell to Illicia's feet, small in size and bare. Strangely, while her fingernails were unpolished her toe nails had recently had a French manicure preformed on them. Her bare feet were all Artesia saw as she saw the black skirt ruffle as Illicia attempted to pull her up, failing miserably.

              "You really should get up. If you must rest it should be somewhere comfortable, like a bed, a cushioned chair, something of that assortment. You know, cozy?" Illicia said irritatedly. She rolled her eyes at the girl lying before her as though she had simply collapsed without reason, regardless of the agony Illicia had just put her through. "How about in bed, lying upon your breast whilst you hold me and lull me to sleep?" She replied pathetically. "If that is your desire then it is mine as well. You're not only my precious lover; you're now the key to 'Fatum Nex.' Your every wish shall be my command forever more." Illicia replied softly, still hunched over. She attempted to life Artesia once more, Artesia attempted to get up herself, succeeding. As Illicia pulled her up she leaned forwards, pressing against Illicia. She leaned against her for a moment and as she did Illicia pulled the headband off her head from the back, and then proceeded to remove the hair tie. Her shimmering brunette locks fell just below her shoulders, and her slanted bangs covered three quarters of Ouroboros's sigil upon her forehead.

              As she leaned against Illicia the blood that had trickled down her face and completely covered her forehead rubbed itself on the breast of Illicia's blouse, staining it dark red. [To be continued, perhaps. I'm fucking tired, okay? And bored, so probably not. I may throw these same characters into some other world, however. So, we'll see. They're fun to work with, I suppose. It's like trying working with clay. Must be molded over and over until I can achieve anything close to my desired result. PS - Deh.]

5:27 AM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

So, why exactly did we invent God?

              "Feast on this, my lord." She said, presenting him with a delectable looking dish, seemingly filet mignon. "Only the finest meats are suitable for our sovereign." She went on as she laid the dish before him at his lonely, yet extravagant redwood table with ivory inlays. He smiled gluttonously, his toothy grin dripping with saliva. "Should you save room for desert I believe you will be most pleased." She snickered sarcastically, but he hadn't noticed the nuance in her voice. He had already begun ravenously tearing apart the bloody flesh before him.

              "Damn good!" He shouted, slamming down his stein. "The food ain't that bad, either!" He laughed, wiping the ale and juices from his face with his golden silk sleeve. "Ah, damn, ruined another one. Oh well, just another excuse to 'share' with the 'less fortunate,' eh my dear?" He giggled at his maidservant. She smiled softly and forced a giggle back so pretentiously.

              "Oh, milord, you flatter me." She replied feigning innocence. "The cook was more than happy to help me prepare such a dish; I really can't take too much credit." As she spoke he slammed down his fork and knife, the dish completely devoured. He let forth a loud, obnoxious belch and held out his stein for more ale. "Perhaps I should bring you some wine with your desert," she said, pushing back his stein.

              "Excellent! Illicia, you serve me so well. I'd love to return the favor. If you know what I mean, har har!" He laughed excitedly.

              "Perhaps you should," she replied seductively as she took his plate and turned toward the kitchen to fetch his desert. She returned with a white silver cart bearing a platinum goblet and covered china. "It may not look to be much, lord, but looks may be deceiving," she said winking as she removed the cover from the china to reveal a strangely colored gelatin. "And of course, the only the finest merlot for my lord." She said. She set them before him and he stuck a golden fork into the gelatin with a dismayed look upon his fat face.

              He scraped the fork against the bottoms of his teeth as he drew it from his mouth. She watched his face light up vigorously as he slathered the gelatin around in his disgusting mouth. "DELICIOUS!" He roared, then reached for the goblet and took a big swig. Half-way through he choked, gagged, and spit the thick red liquid from his mouth. "Does your daughter's blood not taste as good as your son's cooked flesh, or his gelatinous brains?" She exalted, stepping back and reaching behind her back. She pulled out a flint-locked pistol and lurched for at him, forcing the pistol against his enormous gut and pulling the trigger. She looked up at him and smiled and whispered, "Your son is dead and, your daughter…" She paused, pressed the end of the pistol into the wound and turned its rusted barrel, warping the lard around it. "Alive and well got her period yesterday, but you can taste that, right?"

              His face twisted as he writhed in pain. He screamed in agony, shouted in terror, and cried in disgust. "Don't worry about Artesia, she's proved her loyalty already. Tasty, tasty!" She proclaimed, smiling with a maniacal, wide eyed expression. She pulled the pistol from his gut and let it slide back in her hand so she held the bloodied barrel, raised it, and brought it down harshly upon the side of his head. As the blood trickled from the point of impact everything faded to black.

8:40 PM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Suck it down deeper

              Mist twisted through the valleys beneath Kjolfhelm, the clouds wrapped around the moon and stars devouring the light in the midnight sky. Throughout the city few torched and lanterns barely illuminated the main roads, not a soul besides the Night watch inhabited these poorly lit streets. Only the main gate remained open at night, guarded by the Captain of the Night watch and his two finest. It'd been three peaceful years since the end of the Jotun War and the east remained quiet, however, tensions were now rising in the west. Everyone in the kingdom of Dym Karr was on edge.

              "Damned Ishfaria, starting this war. Of course they'll attack Diem Karr, what's Lord Arvid thinking? Kjolfheim is safest from the Ishfarian invasion, with the mountains of Jotunheim at our backs! Why's he only strengthening our defenses?" Grumbled Night watch Captain Kal.

              "Ha, ain't it obvious, boss? Rig's still thinkin' them damned Jotun are out to get us, ya'know? They killed his ol' man, tons o' soldiers, hell; they smashed apart half this city! Whole reason I joined the Night watch was to avoid another Jotun War. Nah, I ain't gettin' torn in half by one a them ugly bastards." Replied Rekk. Rekk, along with Kal, were veterans of the Jotun War. They were part of the First Division, the first to be wiped out by the Jotun. The fact that either of them made it back still raised eyebrows amongst the army, as well as the townsfolk.

              Captain Kal looked over at Orson, who was shaking his head Rekk. Orson had nearly died during the war; he spent a few months in a coma. When he awoke he was completely fine, but he could not speak. "Bah, the Jotun would never make that mistake again. After all, we had the Gods on our side! Ha, they may be stupid but they ain't that stupid, ya'know?" Rekk said, laughing heartily.

              "Rekk! That's enough. We all know how that ended…" Captain Kal said solemnly, bowing his head as though mourning the loss of someone. "Ah, sorry Cap'n." Rekk said, bowing his head as well.

              The lights of their lanterns suddenly flickered and the shadows quivered and warped into the silhouette of a beautiful armor clad woman. All three men stood awed, staring into the shadows. Orson, however, quickly composed himself and reached for Captain Kal, but his reach fell short. To the right of them Kal and Rekk heard a clang, and the tearing of flesh. As they turned, mortified, the scent of fresh blood stained their nostrils.

              "Long time, no see, eh gentlemen?" said a familiar, male voice. Before them stood Orson, writhing in pain, as a cloaked figure's rapier protruded through his stomach. "You! The Valkyrie killer!" Shouted Rekk, still not able to grasp what was going on. The cloaked man pulled his sword from Orson's gut, releasing Orson and leaving him to fall to his knees. "BASTARD!" Roared Captain Kal, he drew his sword and charged at the cloaked figure swinging. The cloaked man merely stepped the side, avoiding Kal's sword, then took a quick step behind and him shoved him onto Orson. Kal fell to the ground, still in mid swing. His sword collided with the back of Orson's neck, forcing its way through, decapitating him. Kal dropped his sword, rose back to his knees and stared at Orson's headless corpse.

              "Oh, dear. The Captain of the Night watch grows too bored with his guard job and he kills his comrades? What ever will the people of Kjolfhelm think?! And he was such a respected man! Oh my, the thought of another war must have provoked him into killing! Once a killer always a killer, on or off the field! They'll say all these things now, won't they?" The cloaked man taunted. As he demoralized Kal Rekk was busy making his way to sound the alarm. He climbed the guard tower and began ringing the bell hard as he could, biting his lip and holding back the tears. "I'm a soldier, I'm a soldier, I'm a soldier…" he muttered to himself. Soldiers jumped out of their beds, Night watchmen charged the streets, the quiet streets were no longer quiet at all.

              As the soldiers surrounded the main gate of Kjolfhelm the cloaked man stood there, beneath the torchlight only his mount could be seen behind his hood. He was smiling happily. The guards and soldiers stood, ready for battle, but confused at the same time. All this commotion for one man? As they stared him down a large smacking and splattering sound came from their right. They looked over to see Rekk smashed against the ground. "Oh dear, what have I done? It was an accident, I swear!" Shrieked a provocatively dressed woman from the top of the tower.

              "Stop this nonsense at once!" Shouted a prominent voice from the center of the crowd of armor clad men. The figure pushed it's way to the front and put his arm up in the air, motioning the guards and soldiers to stand at ease. They followed his order hesitantly. "Gunshin." Said the man. "King Arvid Rig of Dym Karr, what a pleasant surprise!" Replied the cloaked man. "You almost threw me there, I had forgotten that the current Rig-King dresses as a commoner! Ah, yes, you are quite the leader. I do appreciate your efforts to be a King and still retain your humanity. Has it been working?"

              King Arvid rolled his eyes at Gunshin. "Must you keep that filthy rag over your head even now? Or has your appearance grown even less appealing over these past three years? Surely the gods must have punished you for your sins." Gunshin removed his hood, revealing his face. His slicked black hair had silver roots now, his eyes were mismatched. One was green with a hint of gold around the pupil, the other was a deep, midnight blue. The blue eye, however, had no pupil. His iris was pure blue without the slightest impurity. "Ah, yes, I'd nearly forgotten about your mismatched eyes." Arvid said, stepping forward to get a better look at Gunshin. "You've lost your eyesight in the right one, haven't you? Is it really worth it to sacrifice your body like this just to use the runes?" Arvid asked, trying his hardest to get on Gunshin's nerves.

              "Oh, Rig-King! You're trying to taunt me, aren't you?" Gunshin replied, yawning. The woman in the tower had made her way down as the two spoke and made her way to Gunshin's side. "By Hel, you two are impossible!" She shouted. "Peorth, shut up and find the girl." Gunshin ordered. "Anything for you, brother dearest!" She snapped back sarcastically. She bowed before the King and his men, then, darted past them into the city. "Hold!" Shouted Lord Arvid as half the men ran off after her. "Fools, you'll end up dead…" He mumbled.

              "So, Rig-King, how's your father?" Sarcasm seemed to permeate the air. "I wouldn't know, old friend. After all, you severed Dym Karr's ties with the Gods three years ago." Arvid walked over to Gunshin, who sheathed his rapier as he approached.

              "What's your purpose here?" He asked solemnly.

              "I've come for the Valkyrie."

              "No one knows we hid her away after you stripped her of her powers. They all assume you sacrificed her to bring back the fallen to fight for you."

              "Haha, wonderful. I knew you'd protect her for me, Son of Heimdall."

              "I knew you'd come for her, however, I didn't expect you to kill three of my men."

              "Only one of them will make it to Asgard. The other two will serve you again."

              "So you've allied yourself with Queen Hel? You must have given her something beyond comparison."

              "Not really, just something her rotten loins have longed for since the day she was born. Of course, you'd rather not hear about that I'm sure." Their conversation was cut off there by the screaming of Kal as he drove his own sword through his chest and fell back twitching and bleeding.

"Oh, I only killed two of you men, so there. Hrm… Peorth's got her. We'll be leaving now. Ishfaria has no intention of attacking you. Rest easy, Rig-King. Farewell." Gunshin said, turning away from Lord Arvid and heading back into the mist infected valleys surrounding Kjolfhelm. Peorth had abducted the girl and blown a whole through the West Gate, gun powder being her favorite toy.

4:31 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Truely?

     That which does not exist in this world, and perhaps never shall, is that which is most beautiful.


Fantasy. Lose yourself happily ever after. The ending always the most beautiful part.

12:14 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment