Post by Rowanstar on Apr 24, 2007 19:23:14 GMT -5
OKAY! So, while I was enduring one of my many bored spells, I came up with this little short story! It might be a little confusing, but I hope not! Tell me what you think!
P.S. You might want to listen to a sad song while reading this. Especially the end part. *Sniffle* Lol! Okay, g'head!
JUST FOR A LITTLE ADDED EXTRA, Here are some pics of the characters!::
TRISTAN!
EMILY!
a pretty vague idea of THE OPPOSING ARMY
P.S. You might want to listen to a sad song while reading this. Especially the end part. *Sniffle* Lol! Okay, g'head!
Tristan sat astride his roan stede, armour weighing down on his shoulders and arms as he remained unmoving. His stomach churned uncomfortably and his muscles ached and creaked with every slow breath he took. His grey-blue eyes were fixed on the horison, barley hearing the anxious mutters of his men and the impatient pawing of horse hooves on the muddy ground. The sky was overcast with gloomy, ominous clouds promising a heavy rain not far off. Sure enough, after a few more strained minutes, the first drops of rain crashed down on the prince's silver armour, adding to the droning sounds of whisperes and snorts. His breath began to rise in small steamy puffs, disappearing just above his helmet. His heart beat faster as the endless minutes wore on, each second of waiting more strenuous than the last. Suddenly, his senses sharpened as the thing he was waiting for finally appeared. On the far, foggy horison was a black splotch. It grew larger and larger, and a sound reached Tristan's ears: men, yelling and clashing their swords and spears and shields. His horse stamped its feet, getting anxious. The men around him shuffled and looked around at eachother. "Steady men," Tristan instructed, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. As time wore on, the sound grew louder and the splotch expanded into long lines of ranks, built up of hundreds of thick, dark skinned men, all of them heavily armed. They were on foot, though looked horribly strong and menacing. Their faces were twisted into furious roars. None of them were smaller than eight feet tall, with tree branch-sized arms and legs. And worst of all, they reaked of carrion and blood. Tristan took a deep breath, then swung his horse around to face his men. His heart skipped a beat as he realised how few there actually were. They were outnumbered, by at least five hundred. Trsitan raised his head high, despite his crreping doubts. He lifted his long sliver sword above his head to many cheers and shouts from his valiant army. "My brothers!" he called, his voice ringing down the rocky slope and into the open battle field, "This day has been an ominous cloud, looming over each and every one of you. You have left your families, your dreams and former lives behind to fight here today! But do not fear. Though your old life is over, this day you earn the title of war hero! This day is yours! Do not feel fear, do not show mercy... DO NOT GIVE IN!" Tristan reined his horse around back to face the fast approaching opposition. The giant creatures' cries were nearly deafening, but the yells and cheering from his own battalian were still the better. Tristan waved his sword high above his head, slamming down his helmter visor with the other hand. "FOR RU'BEAN!" At the cry of their former king's name, the army surged forward like quick silver. Tristan lead the way down the roky, shrub covered slope, spears and arros trained on the army of ugly monsters. With a wave of his sword, arrows flew past Tristan, colliding with hundreds of sickening thuds with the opposion army. As the two sides closed the distance between them, time seemed to slow. The seconds barley slid by as Tristan's battalian stormed across the battle field. Finally, just as time seemed to freeze, the first clash of the Battle of the Age was brought. Spears hit sheilds, swords hit flesh, and men began falling dead on both sides. Tristan fought from his horse's back, cutting down anyone who tried to slash at him. He rode across the field, not caring who his horse stepped on, or who's head he severed. The only thing that mattered to him was winning this battle and returning to his family... and the one he loved.
However, unknown to Tristan, there was one extra sword ripping through crimson flesh. Small hands gripped the handle, powered by arms that barley held up the weight of the armour as well as the heavy, grey sword. The helmet jostled about on the head of a blonde warrior, fighting like mad. Below the metal veil were icey blue eyes, fierce with the heat of battle. Those eyes were complimented by a beautiful, thin face with defined features and a long jaw. This gangly warrior faought like any other, only had one disadvantage. It was a woman. Those entrancing eyes belonged to Emily LaBarque, lady of Verdeau. Her usually delicate face was twisted with rage and fire to kill, and her body was covered in the thick, smelly armour of her comrads. For a solid month, Emily had tagged along with the army, hoping to stop her love, the Prince Tristan of Chenier, from going into this hopeless battle. However, her plans changed when they were but a day away from the battle site. She had overhead some of the men talking after a meal of dry meat. They had said "This army we go up against... they are not human. We face no strong men of the West, no stealthy conners of the South; but huge, monsterous creatures... seskeesh they are called. They stand eight feet tall, with faces of the devil. They feel nothing but hate and anger. We do not race to win... we race to our doom." Emily couldn't believe it. For a year, her and Tristan's wedding had been planned, only to have their hopes dashed by a simple quarrel between nations. But now that she was fighting, she knew it was more than that. Oh, how wrong she had been then. In an attempt to save Tristan from this fate, she had geared up like everyone else, remaining under the cover of Eli, stable boy of Chenier. She had planned on following Tristan to battle, revealing herself, and make him take her back to Verdeau. There, she would have kept him, convincing him that this battle was silly... but things had gone too far. Before the Prince's speech, Emily could barley contain her creeping anxiety and dread. But now, as she fought with a mad fire, his words burned within her mind, running over and over. The speech pushed her onwards, whispering words into her mind of triumph, and finally being together with Tristan again. Emily was jerked back to the situation at hand as a terrifying roar erupted only feet from her. She swung around to see an enormous monster charging at her, its thick battle ax waving in the air. She let out a shreik, then regained control. Thrusting her shield upwards and deflecting the harsh blow aimed at her neck, she let out a battle cry to match those around her. While her opponent was still trying his first attack, Emily thrust her long thin sword into the creature's gut. It let out a low, gurgling moan and toppled to the ground beside her, only to reveal a new stream of tall fighters. Emily threw herself into the heat of the battle, flinging her sword and puching anything her armoured fists would reach. Her view of the battle was much different now, and she actaully found it rather enjoyable.
Trsitan let out a cry as his horse stumbled to the ground and fell, a thick arrow protruding from her red breast. The Prince flew over her neck, hitting the ground and sliding through the mud. His skin was soaked through where there was no armour, and his heart beat so fast it hurt. Quickly regaining his stance, he brandished his sword, not daunted by the loss of his noble stede. He allowed himself to grieve for a moment, then charged head long into the battle. He cut off limbs, cut through flesh and kicked down any that stood in his way. His agile movements prevented him from getting severed or smotherd by falling corpses, and he remained somewhat unnoticed. Tristan kept running, flinging his sword aimlessly. He only stopped as he ran into the middle of a small circle of the enemy. There he stood, still brandishing his sword, as the hideous creatures turned their repulsive faces on him, their beedy sea-weed green eyes baring into him, as if seking any weakness. They found it. Tristan was alone, all of his men blocked out by the strong circle of monsters. There were about nine of them, each with either a battle ax of a long, blunt sword, big enough to kill and ox. Tristan froze, his muscles tensing and battle senses fading. His smoky eyes scanned his opponents, not seeing any way to defeat them all. But he would not back down. Tristan lowered his sword slowly, glaring at his attackers with malice in his eyes and a twisted grin on his flawless face. He reached up hand and swept off his helmet, letting his sweeping dusty blonde hair fall around his face. The helmet crashed to the ground as time, again, seemed to slow. Tristan gritted his teeth, raised his sword, and one foot after another, threw himself at the advancing creatures. Over the din of the battle, a single battle cry could be heard, ripping through the air with determination and loyalty.
Emily stood, back to back, with another man by the name of General Stone. She - or rather, Eli - had grown very close to the sturdy commander, and now they stood facing five huge creatures. With a curt nod from her General, the two sparated and began hacking at the legs and chests of their attackers. One fell, two, three... A frouth was cut down, severed in the middle by Stone's sword, and the fifth fell dead, twitching as Emily's sword thrust down into the back of its head. She looked over at her comrade, grinning broadly, only to find him flinging himself at another creature. She chuckled at his enthusiasm. Suddenly, her smile faded as a cry tore over their heads. Emily looked wildly around, trying to find the soldier in pain. The cry sounded full of regret, hate, energy, pain and determination; the emotions only one man could feel. Emily felt her knees go weak and her arms fall numb at her side, sword clattering to the ground as the wall of fighting bodies parted to reveal a horrific scene. The valiant Prince Tristan, helmet gone along with his self-control, was charging at full speed towards nine of the monsterous enemy. Emily's breath caught in her chest and the world seemed to spin as one of the creatures slashed at his chest, cutting a gash through the thick leathered chest plate. Tristan charged onward. Another creature swung at his head, but he ducked and scewered it. He still ran. Though he was bleeding from his wound, Emily thgouht he might win; until her worst fears were answered. Behind Tristan, surprisingly stealthy for its size, the biggest monster Emily had ever seen raised its battle ax above its ugly head. She let out a scream to warn her endangered love, but she was not heard. Trsitan turned around, but it was too late. The heavy ax crashed down in the center of his chest. He lurched, blood pouring from the new wound, falling to his knees. His mouth hung open, eyes distant and confused looking. Suddenly, Tristan rose again to his feet. He instantly killed his attacker with one fell swoop of his blade, swinging around and slicing through the waist of another. Emily watched in horror, her eyes pouring tears almost as fast as Tristan bled. She was still yelling, begging him to stop. This was too much. Howeer, Tristan still fought, if possible, harder than ever. But his momentary falter was too much. Another monster came up on his side, slicing his shoulder below the neck. The Prince once again fell to the ground, sword crashing down just as Emily's had. Now her tears were flowing like rivers. This time, Tristan didn't get up. Instead, he whipped a dagger from his belt and drove the blade into the leg of antoher mosnter, causing it to fall to the grond next to him. Big mistake. The fallen creature, sword still in hand, raised its lethal weapon, and with a tremendous roar, drove into Tristan's back. The world froze. Emily was barely able to take it in through her sobs. Pictures began flashing into her mind: Click. Tristan, on his knees, broken and bleeding, the thick sword proturding from his back. Click, Click. The creature who had thrust the weapon, smiling, revealing rotted, yellow teeth to jeers from its followers. Click Tristan falling dead on the ground, a pool of blood forming around his body. His eyes remained open however, straing absently at the continueing world, as his soul slipped into the abyss. Emily screamed again, this time in defeat and in anger. She drew herself up, grabbed her sword and hurled herself at the monsters. She killed the one on the ground, the one approaching her and her fallen love, and two more with one thunderous cry and a swing of hersword, severing both their heads. Once, lot of them were either killed or mortally wounded, Emily tunred back to the unmoving form of Tristan. She, too, whipped off her helmet and dropped her sword. She fell to her knees beside his corpse, rolling him over onto his back. The sight was horrible. His usually grey and brown armour was stained in crimson blood, and his face was pale and blotchy. His eyes were unfocused, yet seemed so determined to live. But he had lost that will, and now lay here in the arms of his love. Emily had lost him. He was beyond her reach now, never to come back. They would never share the intimate kisses of two young lovers, they would never be married, they would never have a family of their own. Emily burried her head in his shoulder, ignoring the blood her hair dragged through. She didn't care about anything anymore, her senses were numb. Her heart felt like it was being slowly torn to pieces by the cold, merciless hands of fate. She raised her head slightly and kissed Tristan's cold forhead, bruching some of his dusty hair from his still smoky eyes. "Oh, Tris..." she whispered, "My Tris... I love you." Emily again bent over him, sobbing onto his shoulder and ignoring the writhing battle surging around her. Tristan was gone forever. He was never coming back. The rain fell harder, pounding against her back like a thousand dulls arrows. Like arrows. Arrows piercing her heart, the heart that continued beat while Tristan's was stilled. The heart that had loved him like no others could ever understand. The heart that was shattered, that had hopes so beautiful, so pure that it would never truley heal. Slow minutes passed, and Emily didn't let go of Tristan's body. She felt that if she didn't let him go, his soul would linger for longer, still watch over her ans guide her heart to a new path. But how could it? Tristan was dead. He was dead. The words still seemed surreal, not yet sinking in, although her heart was breaking. She rocked slowly back and froth, pulling away from his slightly, burshing more hair from his ghostly face. She looked into his dull eyes, never to see the love and passion there again, but just for the sake of seeing them one last time. She brushed his cheek, just for the sake of touching him one last time. And finally, she kissed him, just for the sake of loving him... one last time.
THE END
However, unknown to Tristan, there was one extra sword ripping through crimson flesh. Small hands gripped the handle, powered by arms that barley held up the weight of the armour as well as the heavy, grey sword. The helmet jostled about on the head of a blonde warrior, fighting like mad. Below the metal veil were icey blue eyes, fierce with the heat of battle. Those eyes were complimented by a beautiful, thin face with defined features and a long jaw. This gangly warrior faought like any other, only had one disadvantage. It was a woman. Those entrancing eyes belonged to Emily LaBarque, lady of Verdeau. Her usually delicate face was twisted with rage and fire to kill, and her body was covered in the thick, smelly armour of her comrads. For a solid month, Emily had tagged along with the army, hoping to stop her love, the Prince Tristan of Chenier, from going into this hopeless battle. However, her plans changed when they were but a day away from the battle site. She had overhead some of the men talking after a meal of dry meat. They had said "This army we go up against... they are not human. We face no strong men of the West, no stealthy conners of the South; but huge, monsterous creatures... seskeesh they are called. They stand eight feet tall, with faces of the devil. They feel nothing but hate and anger. We do not race to win... we race to our doom." Emily couldn't believe it. For a year, her and Tristan's wedding had been planned, only to have their hopes dashed by a simple quarrel between nations. But now that she was fighting, she knew it was more than that. Oh, how wrong she had been then. In an attempt to save Tristan from this fate, she had geared up like everyone else, remaining under the cover of Eli, stable boy of Chenier. She had planned on following Tristan to battle, revealing herself, and make him take her back to Verdeau. There, she would have kept him, convincing him that this battle was silly... but things had gone too far. Before the Prince's speech, Emily could barley contain her creeping anxiety and dread. But now, as she fought with a mad fire, his words burned within her mind, running over and over. The speech pushed her onwards, whispering words into her mind of triumph, and finally being together with Tristan again. Emily was jerked back to the situation at hand as a terrifying roar erupted only feet from her. She swung around to see an enormous monster charging at her, its thick battle ax waving in the air. She let out a shreik, then regained control. Thrusting her shield upwards and deflecting the harsh blow aimed at her neck, she let out a battle cry to match those around her. While her opponent was still trying his first attack, Emily thrust her long thin sword into the creature's gut. It let out a low, gurgling moan and toppled to the ground beside her, only to reveal a new stream of tall fighters. Emily threw herself into the heat of the battle, flinging her sword and puching anything her armoured fists would reach. Her view of the battle was much different now, and she actaully found it rather enjoyable.
Trsitan let out a cry as his horse stumbled to the ground and fell, a thick arrow protruding from her red breast. The Prince flew over her neck, hitting the ground and sliding through the mud. His skin was soaked through where there was no armour, and his heart beat so fast it hurt. Quickly regaining his stance, he brandished his sword, not daunted by the loss of his noble stede. He allowed himself to grieve for a moment, then charged head long into the battle. He cut off limbs, cut through flesh and kicked down any that stood in his way. His agile movements prevented him from getting severed or smotherd by falling corpses, and he remained somewhat unnoticed. Tristan kept running, flinging his sword aimlessly. He only stopped as he ran into the middle of a small circle of the enemy. There he stood, still brandishing his sword, as the hideous creatures turned their repulsive faces on him, their beedy sea-weed green eyes baring into him, as if seking any weakness. They found it. Tristan was alone, all of his men blocked out by the strong circle of monsters. There were about nine of them, each with either a battle ax of a long, blunt sword, big enough to kill and ox. Tristan froze, his muscles tensing and battle senses fading. His smoky eyes scanned his opponents, not seeing any way to defeat them all. But he would not back down. Tristan lowered his sword slowly, glaring at his attackers with malice in his eyes and a twisted grin on his flawless face. He reached up hand and swept off his helmet, letting his sweeping dusty blonde hair fall around his face. The helmet crashed to the ground as time, again, seemed to slow. Tristan gritted his teeth, raised his sword, and one foot after another, threw himself at the advancing creatures. Over the din of the battle, a single battle cry could be heard, ripping through the air with determination and loyalty.
Emily stood, back to back, with another man by the name of General Stone. She - or rather, Eli - had grown very close to the sturdy commander, and now they stood facing five huge creatures. With a curt nod from her General, the two sparated and began hacking at the legs and chests of their attackers. One fell, two, three... A frouth was cut down, severed in the middle by Stone's sword, and the fifth fell dead, twitching as Emily's sword thrust down into the back of its head. She looked over at her comrade, grinning broadly, only to find him flinging himself at another creature. She chuckled at his enthusiasm. Suddenly, her smile faded as a cry tore over their heads. Emily looked wildly around, trying to find the soldier in pain. The cry sounded full of regret, hate, energy, pain and determination; the emotions only one man could feel. Emily felt her knees go weak and her arms fall numb at her side, sword clattering to the ground as the wall of fighting bodies parted to reveal a horrific scene. The valiant Prince Tristan, helmet gone along with his self-control, was charging at full speed towards nine of the monsterous enemy. Emily's breath caught in her chest and the world seemed to spin as one of the creatures slashed at his chest, cutting a gash through the thick leathered chest plate. Tristan charged onward. Another creature swung at his head, but he ducked and scewered it. He still ran. Though he was bleeding from his wound, Emily thgouht he might win; until her worst fears were answered. Behind Tristan, surprisingly stealthy for its size, the biggest monster Emily had ever seen raised its battle ax above its ugly head. She let out a scream to warn her endangered love, but she was not heard. Trsitan turned around, but it was too late. The heavy ax crashed down in the center of his chest. He lurched, blood pouring from the new wound, falling to his knees. His mouth hung open, eyes distant and confused looking. Suddenly, Tristan rose again to his feet. He instantly killed his attacker with one fell swoop of his blade, swinging around and slicing through the waist of another. Emily watched in horror, her eyes pouring tears almost as fast as Tristan bled. She was still yelling, begging him to stop. This was too much. Howeer, Tristan still fought, if possible, harder than ever. But his momentary falter was too much. Another monster came up on his side, slicing his shoulder below the neck. The Prince once again fell to the ground, sword crashing down just as Emily's had. Now her tears were flowing like rivers. This time, Tristan didn't get up. Instead, he whipped a dagger from his belt and drove the blade into the leg of antoher mosnter, causing it to fall to the grond next to him. Big mistake. The fallen creature, sword still in hand, raised its lethal weapon, and with a tremendous roar, drove into Tristan's back. The world froze. Emily was barely able to take it in through her sobs. Pictures began flashing into her mind: Click. Tristan, on his knees, broken and bleeding, the thick sword proturding from his back. Click, Click. The creature who had thrust the weapon, smiling, revealing rotted, yellow teeth to jeers from its followers. Click Tristan falling dead on the ground, a pool of blood forming around his body. His eyes remained open however, straing absently at the continueing world, as his soul slipped into the abyss. Emily screamed again, this time in defeat and in anger. She drew herself up, grabbed her sword and hurled herself at the monsters. She killed the one on the ground, the one approaching her and her fallen love, and two more with one thunderous cry and a swing of hersword, severing both their heads. Once, lot of them were either killed or mortally wounded, Emily tunred back to the unmoving form of Tristan. She, too, whipped off her helmet and dropped her sword. She fell to her knees beside his corpse, rolling him over onto his back. The sight was horrible. His usually grey and brown armour was stained in crimson blood, and his face was pale and blotchy. His eyes were unfocused, yet seemed so determined to live. But he had lost that will, and now lay here in the arms of his love. Emily had lost him. He was beyond her reach now, never to come back. They would never share the intimate kisses of two young lovers, they would never be married, they would never have a family of their own. Emily burried her head in his shoulder, ignoring the blood her hair dragged through. She didn't care about anything anymore, her senses were numb. Her heart felt like it was being slowly torn to pieces by the cold, merciless hands of fate. She raised her head slightly and kissed Tristan's cold forhead, bruching some of his dusty hair from his still smoky eyes. "Oh, Tris..." she whispered, "My Tris... I love you." Emily again bent over him, sobbing onto his shoulder and ignoring the writhing battle surging around her. Tristan was gone forever. He was never coming back. The rain fell harder, pounding against her back like a thousand dulls arrows. Like arrows. Arrows piercing her heart, the heart that continued beat while Tristan's was stilled. The heart that had loved him like no others could ever understand. The heart that was shattered, that had hopes so beautiful, so pure that it would never truley heal. Slow minutes passed, and Emily didn't let go of Tristan's body. She felt that if she didn't let him go, his soul would linger for longer, still watch over her ans guide her heart to a new path. But how could it? Tristan was dead. He was dead. The words still seemed surreal, not yet sinking in, although her heart was breaking. She rocked slowly back and froth, pulling away from his slightly, burshing more hair from his ghostly face. She looked into his dull eyes, never to see the love and passion there again, but just for the sake of seeing them one last time. She brushed his cheek, just for the sake of touching him one last time. And finally, she kissed him, just for the sake of loving him... one last time.
THE END
JUST FOR A LITTLE ADDED EXTRA, Here are some pics of the characters!::
TRISTAN!
EMILY!
a pretty vague idea of THE OPPOSING ARMY