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Topic: NWC Live Wednesday Night Story Telling (Read 73 times) |
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Ayrik
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Last On: 12/23/09
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It was a clear night, warm and cloudless. The moon was full and the stars stood out as diamonds glittering on the black velvet of the night sky.
“Not what you’d expect of a night like this one,” an old man thought to himself. He dodged in and out of the shadows as he made his way through the small village, stopping to look behind him and make sure he was not being followed.
His white hair and close-cropped beard contrasted oddly with the youthful light in his bright emerald eyes, and he moved with a surety that made it clear the years had not been hard on him. It was the bundle in his arms, however, that held the majority of his attention. A pair of serious gray eyes stared up at him from the infant boy’s face, the look held no fear, only a question, as if he was wondering why his sleep was interrupted.
“Shhh…we’re almost there now,” the old man’s voice was calm and reassuring, and the child once again closed his eyes.
After a few more minutes of dodging through the shadows, the odd pair found themselves outside the village. “We’ll stick to the edge of the forest,” the man said to the bundle in his arms, “the place we’re going is only just over a mile from here, it won’t take long.” As he made his way to the forest, the thing he had feared took place. Four men, armed with stout cudgels and wicked short swords, stepped out of the shadows surrounding him.
“Damn!” he muttered under his breath, then shifted the weight of the child into his left arm, and raising his right arm, he held his hand palm forward and began to mutter under his breath.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared from his hand, and just as quickly split into four separate missiles, flying toward one of the men. Quickly, he spun to face the next would-be assailant, still stunned by what he had just seen. With another utterance, the old man hurled a flaming arrow at the second man, piercing his chest and setting him alight. By this time, the other two had recovered from their initial shock, and rushed the old man, screaming in an attempt to distract him.
It meant trouble, that he knew in an instant. As he dodged a poorly aimed thrust, the old man whipped his hand up, holding a throwing knife he had hidden somewhere on his person. He drove it fiercely into the exposed underarm of the attacker, and kicked the body at his final foe. But the other man was prepared, and quickly sidestepped the body of his former companion. He then shattered the old man’s arm with a vicious swing of his club. With a cry of pain, the old man half-slumped to the ground, nearly dropping the child.
As the dark form of the attacker stepped forward, club raised to deliver the final blow, a black form plunged out of the sky, knocking the club from the attacker’s hand in a flurry of feathers, beak, and talons.
This gave the old man enough time to murmur a final spell, and the final attacker fell, with a blade of ice buried in his throat.
“It’s about time!” the old man said, eying the raven that had landed on his shoulder. “Did you deliver the message?” In response, the bird made a clicking sound with it’s beak, bobbing it’s head up and down.
“Good,” the old man replied, “I’d hate to burst in unexpected.”
Slowly getting to his feet, old man adjusted the weight of the child, still nestled protectively in his good arm, so he could look at the infant’s face. “Huh, look at that,” he said, shaking his head, “he’s sleeping!” The man grunted once and looked ruefully at his shattered arm, “That could be inconvenient,” he thought, then set off once again to his destination.
After another half an hour, the old man appeared at the door to a farm house, knocking gently. The door opened slowly, and the old man disappeared inside. After a short while, he walked out of the house and set off back down the road.
Unaware of the events that had taken place that night, a young woman in the village rocked a small baby girl in her arms. She had been told that she could never have a child of her own, but the gods had heard her prayer, and here she was. She looked lovingly into the face of the girl, and was met by two gray eyes staring back at her. The child grinned, yawned, snuggled up against the woman’s breast, and went to sleep.
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Ayrik
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Last On: 12/23/09
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Life on the farm was as busy as usual for Alex, but he had been having a hard time concentrating on his work. He was nearly seventeen, taller than most men, and his golden hair rested lightly on his broad shoulders when it wasn’t tied up with a small strip of leather. His eyes were the clear blue of a calm sky, except when he was upset or excited. At those times his eyes became a deep, stormy gray.
He heaved a large sigh, leaning on the handle of his pitchfork and staring dreamily up into the clear sky. He watched idly as a small bird dipped and swerved, wondering what it would be like to fly, free of any worry or care. Distantly, the muffled sound of feet walking through the rows of cut, dry hay came to him. Something was odd about the noise, it wasn’t his father’s self assured stride, nor that of any of the hands on the farm. Besides, it was coming from the wrong direction. The barn and farm house both lay some good distance to the east, but the noises were coming from the northwest.
Lowering his gaze from the sky, his eyes searched out the source of the noise. It didn’t take long for his sharp eyes to pick out the shapes of three men approaching. He recognized the one in the lead, Tekk, a hand from a nearby farmstead, one he had never particularly gotten along with. Behind him to the left was an odd looking fellow. He was barely half the height of a normal man, but the structure of his clean shaven face said clearly that he was full grown. His dark hair fell nonchalantly into his eyes, and he was dressed in a blue tunic with black pants that seemed to be made from some sort of hide other than leather. He had a shifty look in his eyes, and the handle of a long dagger was clearly visible at his belt. The third figure was nearly as tall as he was himself, and slender as well. He could tell nothing else, because a deep hooded cloak of a green so dark it was nearly black concealed all other features.
He pressed his foot on the end of his pitchfork, driving the tines into the ground, and went to greet the strangers. When he was within ten feet of them, he raised his hand, “Good day to you. Do you have business here, or are you lost?” He asked it with all the politeness he could muster, remembering the manners his mother had been trying to force on him for as long as he could remember. It still came out with a slight edge, however, since he knew that they couldn’t be lost, not with Tekk guiding them.
The farmhand spat, eying Alex in the condescending manner that he always assumed around him. It was that same gaze that always set Alex’s teeth on edge, and he had to suppress the urge to wipe the smirk off the offensive man’s face right there.
“These two travelers ‘ave some business wit yer pa, brat. I told ‘em it was useless tryin’ ta deal wit liars like ‘im, but they wouldn’t listen.” He kept his eyes on Alex’s face, and smirked every time he saw the effect of his words register on the young man’s face.
“You better watch your mouth, Tekk,” Alex fumed, his eyes had become a stormy gray, and a faint hiss of surprise came from inside the hood of the cloaked figure.
“Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it, huh ya little pest?” There was a light in the man’s eye that said he was itching for a fight.
“If we weren’t in the presence of guests, Tekk, I don’t think you’d be quite so bold, you festering pile of puke,” the insult sent a look of shock over the man’s face, then his eyes narrowed dangerously as he closed in. Alex’s eyes shone with anticipation.
The fight with Tekk had been brewing for quite some time, but always before there had been someone to intervene. This time, nothing could stop him from teaching the arrogant hand a lesson.
Suddenly, Alex felt the wind rush from his lungs, and he fell to one knee, clutching his side and gasping for breath. Tekk’s fist had moved faster than he had counted on, and the wicked hook had landed it’s full force on Alex’s ribs. Dimly, he saw the diminutive man reach for his knife, but the one in the cloak laid a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her questioningly, but his hand fell by his side.
The next blow came as suddenly as the first, a quick jab aimed squarely at Alex’s nose, but he was ready this time. Shifting his head out of the path of the blow he grabbed Tekk’s wrist in an iron grip and, jerking him forward, stood up, driving his knee into the man’s belly.
While Tekk was bent over, gasping for breath, Alex drove the palm of his hand in between Tekk’s shoulder blades with tremendous force, sending him face down into the harsh stubble the hay had left when it had been cut.
“Get up!” Alex spat at the man spitefully, “Get up and fight, Tekk! I’m just a little brat, remember!? A pest, a nuisance!”
Tekk slowly lifted himself to his hands and knees, turning his scratched, bloody face toward Alex. The look he gave the young man was full of hatred, a vile sort of loathing that can not be misunderstood.
“I’ll kill ya boy.” His voice was quiet, matter of fact, “One a these days, I’ll kill ya.”
“But not today, Tekk, today you’ll run like the cowardly dog you are!”
The note in Alex’s voice could have shattered stone, and the look he gave Tekk returned all the malice that he had been shown. Kicking the man squarely in the ribs, he turned back to the visitors. The gray faded from his eyes as a slow blush crept up his cheeks, “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he started, not knowing how he should act.
“No matter,” the voice was light and musical, like that of a small bell, and it came from within the hood. It was a woman’s voice, that was unmistakable, and it raised Alex’s curiosity as he tried without success to penetrate the inside of the hood with his eyes.
“A good scrap,” the small man said in a jovial voice. “Over a bit quick, but good just the same. I like your style.”
Flushing even more, Alex turned in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. “The house is this way, I’m sure you’re eager to meet with my da.”
With that said, Alex strode off across the field, moving quickly to avoid any further conversation.
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Gulfwulf
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(this is a snipet of a story I'm writing off and on-more off than on):
The large shadow passed slowly over the village as a scream pierced the air. The villagers stopped suddenly and looked up in fear, tasks going forgotten as they ran. Wood went unchopped, wagons were over turned, children lost, adults trampled by the mob as buildings burst into flames, the screams of the inhabitants competing with that of the shadow. Chaos ruled supreme as men stabbed whoever didn’t move away fast enough to suit them. Women called for their children as the children cried for their mothers. Houses were raided as their owners were running away only to be set aflame, the would be thieves still inside. The earth shook as the shadow landed, its claws digging deep into the ground and showering chunks on fleeing villagers. A ring of fire engulfs a hapless group running to the fields outside the village. They stop and drop to their knees, hands covering their faces. Mothers hold their children to their breast, stroking their hair, knowing there is no comfort to be had. The shaking of the earth heralds the coming of the shadow. A massive, scaled head emerges from the flames, the long jaws leading as the razor sharp teeth gleam in the firelight. Yellow eyes glare out under bony ridges over the huddled mass as the neck emerges, red scales gleaming brightly in the firelight. A massive muzzle opens, revealing razor sharp, pointed teeth as a long forked tongue dances over them in anticipation of the meal to come. The frightened villagers huddle together in their last moments on this world as the massive neck rears back in preparation for a feast. A figure straddles the ridges of the great beast’s hide, his arms thrown wide as he relishes the thrill of the hunt, predator against prey, the strong overpowering the weak. Though, he most savors the fear emanating from these puny humans, these maggots, these…creatures that have no right to his world. Oh, he will see them dead. For the time of the dragon riders has come and who else to lead them? Oh yes, they will long remember his name, his accomplishments, his victories!
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, and it went quite well. As I promised one of the others there, I will post the parts of my story "Twins of the Tempest" here after each session.