Van
January 14th, 2006, 11:04 AM
Rawr, I said I had some writing skillz so here we go!
I need: a title, comments, and criticism.
You guys mind helping?
~~~~~~~~~
Prologue: Amidst the Chaos and Sorrow
Armor, matted with blood and dust… Sword, heavy with fatigue and guilt… Still he stood, slightly shaking as the world continued its course, oblivious to his plight.
Disheveled, dark locks haphazardly shielded his youthful countenance, the figure breathed with ragged and subdued breaths. His cloak ripped, torn with the gouging of battle, the extent of the damage was so much that one could no longer make the emblem that emblazed the back. Sweat and dirt covering his body all over, obvious of fatigue, but unyielding, his presence stood.. For some reason though, his eyes, a shade of blue so unnatural that they seemed lavender, were misted over…The thrill of adrenaline still pumped through his steadfast form as the swordsman alighted with the cold reality.
This was war.
A brazened sound, quick as lightning and as loud as thunder sang through the air. Two blades interlocked against each other. Their masters both tried out-do the other, turning the scuffle into a contests of wills, rather than strength.
The young man, snapped out of his stupor, pushed with his might, gritting his teeth as he tried to throw off the older knight. Likewise, his opponent did the same, using what advantage he had in build to the utmost.
And like a classic stalemate, the two forced off, one gaining ground before losing it once in an almost interminable game of tug-of-war. So close was their strength that the veteran soldier spoke, “Boy, I’ve no desire to end your life here. Tell me, why is it you fight so hard?”
Almost as if his persona had shifted completely, the vague, almost listless expression of the youth brightened a small smile cresting as he replied, “For the future… Peace and prosperity are but mere dreams of our war shattered land. For this reason, is it so wrong to continue?”
No more words were exchanged as both nodded in understanding. Having enough, the two conceded, fluidly retracting their sharp edged weapons.
In they charged once more. The smaller, lither of the combatants was the more agile, gaining momentum and force with incredulous speed, swinging his saber in a narrow arc, in hopes to put an end to the match once and for all.
However, it was reactive that was this particular foe’s preferred stratagem. The knight’s two handed blade, considerably thicker than the youth’s blade, moved like a serpent’s strike, parrying and knocking aside the quick strike and maneuvered as if he were to counter.
The dark haired fighter kept his crusade onwards, neither flinching at the attack nor of what it would mean if it were to make impact. Svelte as the most skilled of spies, the footwork of the swordsman was so adept that he approached his foe head on with surprise that broke the simplicity of what was deemed ‘a reckless charge’.
Forward, never looking back, as if he were glancing toward tomorrow and the never-ending future he hoped to instill with joy for generations, the lavender eyed youth struck.
A rising diagonal swing slashed across the chest of the target, blood spilling as the flesh was pierced. It was the mark of success to the young warrior, almost as simultaneous as the darting thrust of his fellow man.
White, hot fire raced through his veins, the most intense of pain gripping his system, threatening to choke him in the hold of death. Dropping his sword, he gasped, the shocking feeling reaching outward with sudden spasms. Blood began to drip from his mouth, proof of the pain he felt as he literally vomited crimson, mimicking the stream that flowed from his side.
In mirroring aspect, the first to be wounded staggered as he fell, his wound much more fatal than that of which had befallen the quick-footed knight. The blade had fallen upon his body with speed and skill that it had pierced through the weakness of his bronze plate all entirely. But the older warrior had honor, enough that he would even sacrifice the last, vital minutes of his own life to wish kindness upon his enemy, “M..my, quite the courage you have there boy… please.. Do fulfill that wish of yours... I’ve no ill will towards you… Th-thanks...”
With that, the eyes of the one who had known nothing but fighting all his life glazed over… Passing his spirit from the world.
~~~
Fate seemed to work in an ironic way thought the survivor of the battle. As he lay there, face towards the sky, the idealistic youth contemplated. He coughed; bringing the stained visage of his stained gauntlet to wipe what he knew would be on his lips. Blood.
He didn’t realize it before, but the sight of the red maroon liquid made him sick to the deepest pits of his stomach.
His insides churned, his face crumpled in disgust… Knowing very well that the entire field that was under him had been tainted by it, and it was he, who had been responsible for the marring deed. He laughed aloud, seemingly like a madman as he berated himself, “Should I have to always fight?.. Cursed by the endless fate of mankind? If only….”
So there he was, on the ground among the corpses, for nigh several hours, drifted asleep.. In all honesty, he would’ve been left in peace, if not for the sudden impact against his leg.
Light colored eyes fluttered open, and a soft groan escaped as the youth struggled to sit up, finding the source of his ‘disruption’ to be a boot. Further more glancing with sleep filled eyes, the boot connected to a grass-stained pant leg and upward to the blonde haired grinning countenance of one of equal youth. Almost as if he were mocking the fallen knight, the newcomer prodded him once more with the toe of his leather boot, “Elliot, what happened to you man? You look like you got your spirit, oh so valiant and youthful, beat out of you and left to lament your burdens and die of pain and heartbreak!”
Annoyance flashed across the grounded swordsman’s face, Elliot managing a scowl in his wounded state at the friendly note of his condition, “Matthew, would you cut with your poetical nonsense, and help me?”
A lighthearted chuckle was his response, as the golden haired Matthew offered a battered glove to the displaced Elliot. With a heave, he pulled up the swordsman, steadying him so that he would lean against his shoulder as they trotted slowly toward the remains of their camp, Matthew refusing to give the wounded any rest at all. “So, who got you that good? Was it some general, or did you trip and fall on a spear?!”
“Go remove yourself from my sight and jump off a bridge. Now.” The darker haired of the two companions muttered, not at all amused at his ‘friend’s tirades.
“Awww… did Elliot have a bad experience on the roads of battle where passion, love, and courage mingle in an interminable torrent of cascading emotions and brutal justice?” teased Matthew once more with little sense, if not any at all.
“Why are you my friend again?”
“’Cause we grew up together and I’ve always been there to cheer you up?”
“Could you please stop doing that?”
“Not on your life buddy!”
~~~
A week later found the lovable duo of Elliot and Matthew traveling abroad, the two travelers seemed to be opposite counterparts of each other. One had restless dark hair that often hung before his face, and eyes an unnatural light shade, the other, with hair that shone like the sun and eyes as blue as the seas. A scowl crossed the darker haired youth’s face, whilst mirth and laughter filled the others.
“Ya’know… If you’re always with a moody expression like that, you’ll never find a girl, Elliot. Better perk up and embrace life to the fullest!” exclaimed the more exuberant of the pair.
“And become a tree hugging, flowery word using girl of a man like yourself?” mused Elliot out loud as he ambled on the dirt path. His stride was hindered, the wound on his side was only recognizable by the heavy wad of bandaging.
“Hey! I take that as an insult as well as the whole society of artists! But anyway, seriously, what’s up with you…? You seem a little moody nowadays… almost like…”
The darker haired of the duo slowed his step, his nature more solemn with the approach of the new topic, “It’s nothing really…”
“C’mon, you can tell me! That’s what best friends are for.” Came the cheerful, though less loud voice of the blonde soldier.
Sighing, Elliot gave in to Matthew’s prying, “You know what? I’m slowly getting tired, and sick of this fighting and war…. Around us, I see people dieing daily, either by blade or by sickness… Yet nothing is done to stop that, instead, we focus on building our power to smash each other for dominance… One of the soldiers I fought back there… He was an old man, probably in service out of duty rather than will, when I… killed him, he thanked me… asking me to fulfill my dream...”
Silence ensued from then, with even the normally chipper Matthew quiet as he took in the gravity of his friend’s words. It had been hard he admitted, keeping his own sanity and optimistic outlook of the world despite the conditions around them… If anything, the only thing that had kept both him and Elliot sustaining all these years was Elliot’s dream for a future of peace. And as his friend, Matthew had wholeheartedly pledged his support, a small smile gracing his lips as he gently nudged his friend, “Don’t worry about it man… We’ll get there, even if we have to tear through a thousand armies and save dozens upon dozens of princesses before we succeed. When we’re finally done, I’ll sit down and write poems and odysseys of our adventures!”
For the first time in awhile, Elliot smiled warmly, shaking his head in mock-frustration of Matthew’s plans for the future, “You’ll never stop being an idiot, will you?”
“You ‘betcha!" rang out the blonde’s answer as they continued ambling on their path.
~~~~~~~~~~
I've got more, but the limit sized got broken. x_x
I need: a title, comments, and criticism.
You guys mind helping?
~~~~~~~~~
Prologue: Amidst the Chaos and Sorrow
Armor, matted with blood and dust… Sword, heavy with fatigue and guilt… Still he stood, slightly shaking as the world continued its course, oblivious to his plight.
Disheveled, dark locks haphazardly shielded his youthful countenance, the figure breathed with ragged and subdued breaths. His cloak ripped, torn with the gouging of battle, the extent of the damage was so much that one could no longer make the emblem that emblazed the back. Sweat and dirt covering his body all over, obvious of fatigue, but unyielding, his presence stood.. For some reason though, his eyes, a shade of blue so unnatural that they seemed lavender, were misted over…The thrill of adrenaline still pumped through his steadfast form as the swordsman alighted with the cold reality.
This was war.
A brazened sound, quick as lightning and as loud as thunder sang through the air. Two blades interlocked against each other. Their masters both tried out-do the other, turning the scuffle into a contests of wills, rather than strength.
The young man, snapped out of his stupor, pushed with his might, gritting his teeth as he tried to throw off the older knight. Likewise, his opponent did the same, using what advantage he had in build to the utmost.
And like a classic stalemate, the two forced off, one gaining ground before losing it once in an almost interminable game of tug-of-war. So close was their strength that the veteran soldier spoke, “Boy, I’ve no desire to end your life here. Tell me, why is it you fight so hard?”
Almost as if his persona had shifted completely, the vague, almost listless expression of the youth brightened a small smile cresting as he replied, “For the future… Peace and prosperity are but mere dreams of our war shattered land. For this reason, is it so wrong to continue?”
No more words were exchanged as both nodded in understanding. Having enough, the two conceded, fluidly retracting their sharp edged weapons.
In they charged once more. The smaller, lither of the combatants was the more agile, gaining momentum and force with incredulous speed, swinging his saber in a narrow arc, in hopes to put an end to the match once and for all.
However, it was reactive that was this particular foe’s preferred stratagem. The knight’s two handed blade, considerably thicker than the youth’s blade, moved like a serpent’s strike, parrying and knocking aside the quick strike and maneuvered as if he were to counter.
The dark haired fighter kept his crusade onwards, neither flinching at the attack nor of what it would mean if it were to make impact. Svelte as the most skilled of spies, the footwork of the swordsman was so adept that he approached his foe head on with surprise that broke the simplicity of what was deemed ‘a reckless charge’.
Forward, never looking back, as if he were glancing toward tomorrow and the never-ending future he hoped to instill with joy for generations, the lavender eyed youth struck.
A rising diagonal swing slashed across the chest of the target, blood spilling as the flesh was pierced. It was the mark of success to the young warrior, almost as simultaneous as the darting thrust of his fellow man.
White, hot fire raced through his veins, the most intense of pain gripping his system, threatening to choke him in the hold of death. Dropping his sword, he gasped, the shocking feeling reaching outward with sudden spasms. Blood began to drip from his mouth, proof of the pain he felt as he literally vomited crimson, mimicking the stream that flowed from his side.
In mirroring aspect, the first to be wounded staggered as he fell, his wound much more fatal than that of which had befallen the quick-footed knight. The blade had fallen upon his body with speed and skill that it had pierced through the weakness of his bronze plate all entirely. But the older warrior had honor, enough that he would even sacrifice the last, vital minutes of his own life to wish kindness upon his enemy, “M..my, quite the courage you have there boy… please.. Do fulfill that wish of yours... I’ve no ill will towards you… Th-thanks...”
With that, the eyes of the one who had known nothing but fighting all his life glazed over… Passing his spirit from the world.
~~~
Fate seemed to work in an ironic way thought the survivor of the battle. As he lay there, face towards the sky, the idealistic youth contemplated. He coughed; bringing the stained visage of his stained gauntlet to wipe what he knew would be on his lips. Blood.
He didn’t realize it before, but the sight of the red maroon liquid made him sick to the deepest pits of his stomach.
His insides churned, his face crumpled in disgust… Knowing very well that the entire field that was under him had been tainted by it, and it was he, who had been responsible for the marring deed. He laughed aloud, seemingly like a madman as he berated himself, “Should I have to always fight?.. Cursed by the endless fate of mankind? If only….”
So there he was, on the ground among the corpses, for nigh several hours, drifted asleep.. In all honesty, he would’ve been left in peace, if not for the sudden impact against his leg.
Light colored eyes fluttered open, and a soft groan escaped as the youth struggled to sit up, finding the source of his ‘disruption’ to be a boot. Further more glancing with sleep filled eyes, the boot connected to a grass-stained pant leg and upward to the blonde haired grinning countenance of one of equal youth. Almost as if he were mocking the fallen knight, the newcomer prodded him once more with the toe of his leather boot, “Elliot, what happened to you man? You look like you got your spirit, oh so valiant and youthful, beat out of you and left to lament your burdens and die of pain and heartbreak!”
Annoyance flashed across the grounded swordsman’s face, Elliot managing a scowl in his wounded state at the friendly note of his condition, “Matthew, would you cut with your poetical nonsense, and help me?”
A lighthearted chuckle was his response, as the golden haired Matthew offered a battered glove to the displaced Elliot. With a heave, he pulled up the swordsman, steadying him so that he would lean against his shoulder as they trotted slowly toward the remains of their camp, Matthew refusing to give the wounded any rest at all. “So, who got you that good? Was it some general, or did you trip and fall on a spear?!”
“Go remove yourself from my sight and jump off a bridge. Now.” The darker haired of the two companions muttered, not at all amused at his ‘friend’s tirades.
“Awww… did Elliot have a bad experience on the roads of battle where passion, love, and courage mingle in an interminable torrent of cascading emotions and brutal justice?” teased Matthew once more with little sense, if not any at all.
“Why are you my friend again?”
“’Cause we grew up together and I’ve always been there to cheer you up?”
“Could you please stop doing that?”
“Not on your life buddy!”
~~~
A week later found the lovable duo of Elliot and Matthew traveling abroad, the two travelers seemed to be opposite counterparts of each other. One had restless dark hair that often hung before his face, and eyes an unnatural light shade, the other, with hair that shone like the sun and eyes as blue as the seas. A scowl crossed the darker haired youth’s face, whilst mirth and laughter filled the others.
“Ya’know… If you’re always with a moody expression like that, you’ll never find a girl, Elliot. Better perk up and embrace life to the fullest!” exclaimed the more exuberant of the pair.
“And become a tree hugging, flowery word using girl of a man like yourself?” mused Elliot out loud as he ambled on the dirt path. His stride was hindered, the wound on his side was only recognizable by the heavy wad of bandaging.
“Hey! I take that as an insult as well as the whole society of artists! But anyway, seriously, what’s up with you…? You seem a little moody nowadays… almost like…”
The darker haired of the duo slowed his step, his nature more solemn with the approach of the new topic, “It’s nothing really…”
“C’mon, you can tell me! That’s what best friends are for.” Came the cheerful, though less loud voice of the blonde soldier.
Sighing, Elliot gave in to Matthew’s prying, “You know what? I’m slowly getting tired, and sick of this fighting and war…. Around us, I see people dieing daily, either by blade or by sickness… Yet nothing is done to stop that, instead, we focus on building our power to smash each other for dominance… One of the soldiers I fought back there… He was an old man, probably in service out of duty rather than will, when I… killed him, he thanked me… asking me to fulfill my dream...”
Silence ensued from then, with even the normally chipper Matthew quiet as he took in the gravity of his friend’s words. It had been hard he admitted, keeping his own sanity and optimistic outlook of the world despite the conditions around them… If anything, the only thing that had kept both him and Elliot sustaining all these years was Elliot’s dream for a future of peace. And as his friend, Matthew had wholeheartedly pledged his support, a small smile gracing his lips as he gently nudged his friend, “Don’t worry about it man… We’ll get there, even if we have to tear through a thousand armies and save dozens upon dozens of princesses before we succeed. When we’re finally done, I’ll sit down and write poems and odysseys of our adventures!”
For the first time in awhile, Elliot smiled warmly, shaking his head in mock-frustration of Matthew’s plans for the future, “You’ll never stop being an idiot, will you?”
“You ‘betcha!" rang out the blonde’s answer as they continued ambling on their path.
~~~~~~~~~~
I've got more, but the limit sized got broken. x_x