This is great! I love fantasy writing, but rarely read fantasy I like. I really enjoy what I've read so far, you are an excellent writer. This could easily be a book; I would read a large novel of this story. Please continue writing and posting, and if you have a website or something with other writing I'd like to see it. After seeing your thread on minerals, and your thread on math, I have to say you are an A+ poster. =)
Well, I have half of the next part done. I've mostly been distracted by the Architecture guide I'm making, due to come out tomorrow sometime.
Oh, and I may as well put it here: I have a few others stories I've written. They're about Minecraft, but I have tried a different approach to the "I wake up on an island" theme.
When I saw this on deviant-art, I really wanted to read the rest. Now I am happy. If you think about it, these would actually be some pretty cool ideas for MineCraft.
They sat in awkward silence, Jharak and Schist. Questions burned in Schist's head like the fire that burned in his hand so recently, but he didn't want to ask the man in case he was angry. The circle of dead grass had taken up a good third of the meadow, although there was still room for the pair to eat together.
Chewing on a couple fel-nuts found near a Davish tree, the noise of crunching distracted Schist from the man's gazing stare, which penetrated right through his body. Ignoring the watched feeling, he thought about the flaming plume he held... the heat it gave, without scorching him. The light it bloomed, without blinding him.
Similarly, Jharak was thinking of the plume as well. No doubt that the elixir schist drank was an accelerator, designed to boost the potential energy usage in spells.
Readjusting himself on the flaky grass, Jharak noticed how even trees on the other side of the meadow had still been sapped of their energy, crumbling down worse than they looked before. The boy had the magical control of an adept with two years intensive training, something which no potion could grant.
As Jharak Intently watched the boy, it became apparent schist was inquisitive, perhaps more thoughtful than any slave should be. That, coupled with a sense of obedience might make for the perfect training conditions.
The Alliance always needs new skilled mages, and the boy didn't appear afflicted in any way to the 'king' of Almaria. No doubt the Arch Mage will be impressed with the boys ability, despite the loss of what may have been an Artifact.
And if the Arch Mage is pleased, that means more rewards! Definitely perfect.
"Schist, we must make leave now. I'll be taking you to the Alliance side, to the Ya'ru Springs. There you will not be bound as a slave."
Schist looked as if he was thinking about the statement, before realising it wasn't a question. Pocketing the remaining nuts, they both stood up and abandoned the meadow, to lands which Schist had never seen.
~~~
Proudly, his Scythe swayed in a figure eight, the heavy head taking minimal effort to continually glide through the air. The man in Suede took lead in front of the Adept, striding down the cobble road that lead away from karkun. He would have called a caravan, but he knew that they would not venture into the forest, and hiring a Mech-Unit would require about half an hours paper work.
Stepping off the road to bypass a steel coal car, laden with goods, he breathed in deep. The burning in his lungs felt nasty, but it was basically the same as smoking a pipe. He looked over at the adept lagging behind, probably intentionally.
"Right, so where now mage, off the road yet?"
The adept didn't reply, instead stopped next to the man in suede. Clicking the tar-stained tongue in his mouth in annoyance, he repeated his query.
"Where to now mage? did they leave the road near here?"
Without a word, the adept turned off into the sparsely leaved forest at the side of the roadway. Fist clenched tightly around the hearth-wood handle of his Scythe, he began trekking into the bush as well. Now that he was looking so as not to trip up, the heavy outlines of mechanical footprints and now fading feet imprints were obvious.
For half an hour they walked, slowly following the faded tracks. Anger built up within the man at the adept, who was sluggish in his movements. Calming himself down first, he tapped on the mage's shoulder. Stopping imdediatly, the hooded figure turned around, no face showing under the garments.
"Ok, you've been paid more than enough to get your job done, but urgency beckons that we move faster."
The man in Suede eyed up the strange hooded figure, who was simply standing there. Little gears lost traction in his head, his face turning a shade maroon.
"...I'm going to lead now, I can see the tracks clear enough. Now you keep up with me!"
Striding ahead of the adept, the man in Suede quickly made lost ground. He snorted to himself when he glanced behind him, and the adept was following, albeit distantly. He loved the idea of being the one focused on.
Glowing brightly, night began to fall across the forest. Smog crept into the darkening meadow as water floods over cobbles on a street. Thin tendrils developed and filled out, diffusing into the natural air. Even in the rapidly darkening dusk, the man in suede could make out the burn marks on the ground.
For probably the first time, the adept flinched. The man was not looking at the time however.
"Right, so it looks like the slave and tree man 'Jharak' stopped here, probably for lunch or a rest. We should as well."
They sat down in the crackly, burnt grass. Staring at the adept for a few seconds, the man clicked his fingers to grab attention.
"I need a bedroll, water and some dinner! Make it now."
The adept didn't move for a short period, before pulling out the glass orb from his crossed arms. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the man in suede just noticed how slender the mage's hands were. His eyes were drawn back to the orb as it began to glow.
A blob of brown aura collected above the orb, and solidified into perfect, uniform loaf of bread. Another blob resembling a pale blue goblet formed, and filled itself with water. Lastly, a transparent blue thread appeared in the air. Weaving itself, it became first a bundle of cloth, then a sleeping roll.
Impressed, the man raised his eyebrows, but did little else. Taking the floating objects out of the air, he sat on his bed while dining on bread and water. The adept did not take anything.
"Impressive, but I can do a few things myself you know."
The adept was silent, as usual. Feeling the energy in the ring around his finger, the man sighted a branch off in the distance. Motioning at the stick, it slowly dragged itself over the ground. Reaching it's destination between the two people, the man put the ring up close to the branch.
"Fire"
A single spark spat out of the ring, and began a small smouldering smoke on the branch.
Grinning like a kid showing off a new trick, he tried to gauge the adept's reaction. He was unresponsive. The smile dropped off his face. Nothing, not even a slight raise of the head. He supposed he wasn't expecting much, but surely the adept would be slightly surprised a business man would know magic?
"What a stupid man. He is obviously not a warrior despite his weaponry."
Looking down at the mud slop running down the Steam suit's feet, Steve regretted not walking around the ponds in the area. The sun was leaving the sky fast, and the sheer darkness of the native country land outweighed the shady city mist nights in blackness.
The trail of footsteps was clearer in the mucky grim of the bog, although it vanished numerous times near the edges of ponds. The pair may have rested back at the meadow, but that was several hours ago. Ever since, the terrain had been dark, temperate forestlands.
Steve knew the swamp marked the borderlands to alliance territory. Mech-Units and even Universal Terrain Vehicles, or UTV's had trouble dealing with the varying, ruffled waves of dirt and mud, coupled with swampy vestiges in between.
Likewise, the forest from here back to the cities were dead or decaying. The tree people can't use magic well in the decrepit woods as they get their energy from nature. The swamps proved to be the optimal mid-ground.
Crossing the divide in the first place shows how easy it is for an elite solider to get through the wood patrols. Heck, Steve didn't even come across any. They could run over at any minute and blockade the roads.
This was concerning, both for the safety of the cities, but also for revenge the tree people might enact upon the people. Those cannibals eat nature to fuel their magic, and live in barbaric conditions.
Grabbing one of the mechanical feet, a vine grasped firmly onto Steve's Suit. Hopping on one foot, he tried to snap the plant with pushes and pulls, but only succeeded in tripping over. Slipping a steel finger under the offending vine, he crushed it, rendering it useless.
The sloppy, wet mud and weed stuck to his front, and dribbled down his legs and into the hydraulics in the legs. Some of the grime made it through the mouth guard, oozing over his lips. This stuff is the disgusting garbage of nature. This was probably the third time that had happened, slowing progress down to a crawl.
Still flogging through the swamp, black smoke mingling into the somewhat clear night sky, he pulled the sword off his back. Swishing it slowly through a bush to clean of stray mud drops, he held it against his shoulder. He should have it out all the time past this point: strange creatures roamed the land.
Not including the dragons, of course.
~~~
Utterly tired, Schist nearly fainted when Jharak stopped. The land was blanketed in darkness, and little specks of yellow gold spangled in the sky. They had just managed to cross a great bog, and now were fully covered in silty mud. Schist could not see anything, except for an eerie glow in Jharak's eyes.
Neither of the pair could see any trees. Instead, they were on a silent, grassy plain, although two sets of tree lines could be seen in the distance, both back and forwards.
"Ok, we will set camp here for the night. I will stay guard and protect you."
Schist looked up at Jharak, his eyes, clear emeralds shining alone in the dark. They didn't project light, but they could be seen easily.
"*huf-puf* Why, are your eyes like that Jharak? *huf* And what do you mean by protect?"
The floating eyes in a sea of darkness made a questioning look, until Jharak realised what the child had meant.
"Oh, I can capture and intensify light through 'mirrors' at the back of my eyes. It helps me see at night. I need to protect you as monsters roam the lands between the swamp and Ya'ru."
"What's Ya'ru?"
Jharak looked around, the bright floating eyes burning an after image into Schist's memory, making it hard to see anything else. They lowered themselves, before disappearing.
Schist wandered if he had just fallen asleep, when he felt magic flowing around him. A soft glow emitted from blanket wrapping itself around Schist, lighting up the ground around him. The comfortable blanket was warm, soft and luxrious to the slave.
In the mild light of the aura, he could see Jharak stand up again, his hands held together. Again, Schist felt energy flow towards Jharak, the energy of the gentle wind and it's blown grass. Schist heard a whisper, at the back of his head. Concentrating, he tried to listen to it.
"You are sleek, beautiful and strong.... the energy you will hold shall fly arrows deep into evil's heart..."
Struggling to listen to the faint murmuring, Schist noticed a glow forming in Jharak's hands. A bow, sleek and beautiful as the voice described, took shape.
For the next few minutes, a silence of understanding spread between the two. Shifting their position, the eyes focussed on the darkness rather than Schist.
"Ya'ru is a sacred ground of the Elven society. It is the most pure natural site on all of Almaria, and contains some of the cleanest springs, as well as the oldest trees in the world.
We don't mine, log or burn if we can help it. All the hamlettes and towns around the ground focus on tending for natures critters, and cultivating food and wine. We are one with nature. It is the most perfect world."
"When we reach the Ya'ru, you will realise what I mean. Until then, sleep. I will not let you be disturbed."
Turning over, the child stopped thinking, stopped running, and rested. Volleys of wind buffeted the pair, although it's power was sapped into the aura bow and blanket for energy.
"If I'm going to get any reward, I mustn't let any harm befall this child. Bah, but it's worth it."
I'm glad the story is getting such good reception. I know about five people personally who want this turned into a novel (one is an English teacher) and now a load of people online.
I have exciting ideas for the next part. I'll start that today.
I'm glad the story is getting such good reception. I know about five people personally who want this turned into a novel (one is an English teacher) and now a load of people online.
I have exciting ideas for the next part. I'll start that today.
Wow. That's wonderful. You clearly have a lot of talent and I would not be surprised to see you as one of the top novel writers in the near future.
Twitching his hands, he cricked the joints between his wrist and fingers, providing sensation to his hand. Jharak remained en-guard a few feet away from the child. He had long since sat down, one knee on the ground, to hide within the long grass blowing and fluttering around in the freezing wind.
Bow still in hand, he had been up for perhaps three hours. It was impossible to tell with only stars to navigate by. The rustling Wilder-Wort hid beneath the flowing blades, their tiny pale yellow flowers visible to Jharak's enhanced vision.
The wind blew stronger, unusually so. Looking over the waves of billowing blades, he saw a dark splodge against the pale green sea, moving away from the mire he crossed earlier. It's camouflage was suited more for the dense overgrowth of the bog than the plains.
Sensing disturbance, Jharak's Bow began collecting ambient energy and constructed an arrow. The creature was not far away, but it's mud-covered bulk defied classification. Jharak watched it for a few minutes, noting it's lumbering movements across the plain. Then it raised it's head, a pair of shiny crimson eyes latched onto Jharak's own.
"Holy damn."
With a characteristic, rumbling roar, it revealed itself as a Vark: a half ton of warthog charging straight for Jharak. Not wishing for the child to be trampled, he ran off to the side, the glow in his eyes turning the Vark. Without stopping, he raised his bow, arrow glowing fiercely.
With a brilliant flash, the projectile pierced through hide and hair, severing links in it's burly right foreleg. Blinded by the sudden light, the beast wobbled, allowing Jharak to roll out of the way. Only at close quarters could he see a pair of stained ivory tusks, short but deadly, on it's lowered head.
The bulk crashed to a halt, the injured leg collapsing under it. The fight was not over however. Picking itself up, it made a slow turn, and pawed the ground. Magic arrows might be more powerful than wooden ones, but the Vark was mammoth in size.
Jharak decided on a tactic. He rapidly pulled water out of the ground, abundant due to the grasslands low lying nature. The Vark charged again, running for Jharak once more.
Pulling the water into a foot-wide ball, he muttered under his breath.
"Compress and attack."
The ball shrank to the size of a fist, then shot like a bullet towards the charging train of the beast. Collision was imminent.
*CRACK*
Cringing, Jharak, moved out of the way as the mass of flesh pounded into the ground, uprooting grass. Walking up to the body, he put his hand in front of it's snout. It was still breathing.
No doubt the beast was still alive, if concussed. Wasting no time, Jharak checked on Schist, noting he was still asleep. Picking up the aura blanket he was in, they started their journey to the second tree line in the distance.
The hog left on the plains stirred in it's deep sleep, twitching in the cold wind.
~~~
Whizzz.... Whiiizzzzz....
Whiiizzzzzzzzzz....
Cursing, the Knight could not raise his foot out of the coagulated mud. Various tree roots tangled around the steel boot prevented any lifting motion out of the mire. The powerful joint motors on his knee's could not snap the blanket of plants the Knight had lodged his foot into.
Tired from conscious walking without the ability to fall asleep, the Knight grew annoyed with the delay. Opening the intake latch of his furnace pack, the roaring fire within became audible. Taking the awkward great blade from off his shoulders, he stuck the tip into furnace.
Glowing bright white, the steel tip contrasted the midnight black of the rest off the blade. Removing the now painfully hot sword, he sliced deep into the twined roots around his foot. The roots burned up immediately, shrinking away. The mud cracked and dried, freeing his foot from all ensnarement.
Finally free, the Knight stepped out of the murky mire with a crusty slurp. Testing the joint's to see if there was any damage, the Knight's foot slipped back into the empty hole in the mud. With a pathetic hop, he slammed face first into the pool, sticky earth seeping in through the visor.
Fuming, he lifted himself out, taking a breath of the slightly stagnant air. The silt oozed slowly down the front of his armour, collecting in any crease or joint. Slapping the still burning sword on his armour, he dried up the mud before it cramped up the systems.
The grimy, reeking mess of nature made the Knight sicken a little in his suit. Whilst tree's and plants are interesting, land like this held almost no value.
Continuing forward, with only a tinge of light from stars and the furnace on his back, he trodded on to the end of the mire. It must have been a long time, as he was wretchedly tired, his back clicking with every turn in the suit. Opening out onto a flowing grassland, he cheered to himself within his head.
He could see a vast plain ahead, with another tree line over that. Sword ready, he carefully navigated the field, avoiding the occasional holes and rabbit burrows. He was surprised to hear a low rumble as he trekked the grasslands. Whipping his head around, he sighted a dark mass of flesh on the ground not far away, a pair of dull red eyes glowing back.
Sword at the ready, he eyed the beast, hazy in the darkness. It lay on the ground, apparently injured, a puddle of blood lying on the ground. Being deprived of sleep, the Knight did not wish to engage in battle. walking on, the beast let out a casual grunt.
He almost felt sorry for the thing, just left on the ground on it's own. Sure, it was a monster, but it didn't seem like a threat at the moment. Ignoring the beast, he went forward, to hear a roar from behind.
It was all the knight could do to hold his sword in a side-ways block position as the hog-like beast charged. With a tremendous clash, the boar's tusks hooked right under the Knight's sword, lifting the suit off the ground, clearing the long billowing grass below. Unable to stop, the beast surged forward carrying the full weight of the suit despite it's injury, trying to throw the weight over it's back.
Holding onto the sword with the intense grip of hydraulic steel fingers, the Knight swang his legs together, throwing the beast's centre of gravity off. Keeling to the right, it collapsed with a *THUD* for the second time that night, the Knight falling down backwards along with it.
Disorientated, The Knight picked himself up, straining the hydraulics on his suit to do it as fast as possible. The beast snarled, trying to raise itself up as well. Both stood up in a stance, the boar pawing the ground, the knight holding the huge midnight blade diagonally down from his right hand, the left hand ready to help shift his weight.
With a thundering roar, by far the loudest, the beast's glowing crimson eyes lunged forwards. With a burst of steam from the suit, the sword flew upwards into the beast's skull. The crunch resounded across the wind-blown plains, echoing into the night.
Pulling the sword out, Steve was unable to look at the dead animal. Crushing guilt poured onto him, that he had killed something that seemed so intelligent, that this was the first beast he had killed before.
So much training, so much skill, yet his head was spinning at the thought of murder. Gulping, he knew he needed rest, and food. Opening the rations compartment at the bottom of his furnace pack, he pulled out the dry, hot biscuits inside and ate them under his visor.
Realising how stupid it would be to auto-walk through the forest up ahead of him, he slept in a standing position, bloody sword out in case of attack. Dozing off, stabs of regret prevented him from deep sleep.
"Why must I be so weak when killing? I'm not fit to be a knight..."
~~~
Sleeping soundly in the bedroll, the man in Suede looked like a baby curled up in it's blanket. A helpless, evil little baby. The adept looked on at the man with distain, noting the man's affection for his stolen Scythe. A truly powerful weapon in the hands of an imbecile.
Of course, reclaiming the weapon should be easy, but the adept would take no chances. He must be combat tested, but without provoking suspicion.
"Hmm, let's try a dream battle..."
Thirsty and hungry, the adept pulled out the crystal. Holding it close to himself, he absorbed it's magic subconsciously, fulfilling both his needs, as well as his sleep. Such a useful toy, if a costly - and morally ambiguous - one to make.
Looking back at the man, still tucked in the blanket, the mage held the orb over him. Humming to himself, he began mentally chanting incantations. The man in Suede rolled unwillingly in the blanket, as if avoiding the magic.
As the incantations got deeper the mage began muttering, then singing to himself over the man, who was now rejecting the spell, attempting to wake up.
Reality blended away for the mage, fading into a dark abyss. The man's rolling stopped, completely thoughtless at the time.
Floating in the abyss, the mage looked around, still in his cloak mentally.
"let me change that, I am a dragon, light and slender... my wings propel me to the skies effortlessly..."
The mage's voice, soft and calming, perpetrated the void. Instantly, he morphed into a glowing silver, thin and vaporous dragon. Fins on it's short fore and back legs showed it to be a water reptile, but still maintained wings. Surprised at the fins, the former mage looked at them curiously.
"Hmpf, guess I can't erase my heritage. I am standing on a cloud, in a vast sea of vapour, with nothing but air below..."
The abyss cleared, leaving the dragon stranded on a vast, open sky of clouds, as far as the eye can see. Bouncing from one to another, the dragon considered the place optimal, although noted the ocean below.
"Dangerous, if he remembers this dream and retells it, an experienced mage might find out who I am. I suppose it's too late now for indecision however.
Looking up into the ethereal sky, glowing without a sun, he closed his eyes.
"You may come in."
Instantly, the man in Suede appeared opposite the dragon, looking around in shock. He was dressed as he was while sleeping, Scythe in hand.
"Who are you! Why are you in my head, get out!"
Smiling, the dragon did not speak. Instead, large claws grew out it's comparatively small arms. Still shocked, the man held the Scythe double handed, frightened by the animal floating in front of him.
With a sudden glare, the mythical creature powered it's way to the man, who cried out in fear, before slashing with the deadly weapon. Missing by over a metre, the dragon simply flew over the man, who was white as chalk.
"Demon! You are in my head! I control this place, not you!"
Instead, the dragon lunged at him again. Concentrating, the man leapt out, swinging confidently at the creature. Shrieking, the dragon landed, part of it's belly missing like it had simply disappeared.
"So he's easy to startle, but a fast learner. This might be an issue."
"Aha! I got you demon! You are nothing compared to me!"
The dragon swirled around in the air, before making a diagonal aerial attack. The mage felt his strength diminish at the man's confidence, whilst the Sycthe gleamed with sharpness.
With a fell swoop, the dragon's claws cut through the man, dissipating his arm. At the same time, the man severed one of the dragon's wings, rendering it flightless.
Their injuries were painless, but every hit sapped strength from the crystal orb, lying on top of the two sleeping bodies in a grassy meadow.
Claws out, the dragon unleashed a melee fury, taking short jumps to leap and dodge the man's swipes, an intense battle of untold proportions.
Only a minute in, the dragon jumped away, looking at a ghostly half man. Missing an arm, part of his head and a calf, he was in a better state than the dragon's missing wings, whole leg and lower jaw. Realising his loss, the mage decided to call it a draw.
The man in suede laughed victoriously at the fleeing dragon, holding up the Scythe in glee.
"You cannot beat me, Lord Eryk of South Karkun!"
With a quickstep, the man ran two handed at the dragon, a fatal swoop.
"Not in your world I can't, but you shall not remember me by morning. Halt the dream."
Everything faded back to the black abyss, before opening up to reality. Picking himself up from the slouched position on top of the man, still asleep, the adept recollected the fast fading events. Shortly after, he reclaimed the magic orb which had rolled away.
Closing his eye's, he meditated until dawn, with Eryk left to dream of something else to erase the night's memory.
I don't believe I know any game or movie with a setting like that of the story!
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
NAO.
Dude, I could bunch this together in Pages (mac) for you if you want to?
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
Oh, and I may as well put it here: I have a few others stories I've written. They're about Minecraft, but I have tried a different approach to the "I wake up on an island" theme.
Tale of the Deep. A lone miner is caught in the grasp of evil...
Walkers of the West. A trio of travelling merchants attempt to cross the great western desert...
Miner's Woe. A veteran miner recounts the memories of the world below...
I'd love comments on any of those. Once I've done with the architecture guide, maybe another part for the story?
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
Maybe I should post all my works on there. I still don't know how Dev-art works though.
I'm at 566 words btw, about a third of the way.
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
Chewing on a couple fel-nuts found near a Davish tree, the noise of crunching distracted Schist from the man's gazing stare, which penetrated right through his body. Ignoring the watched feeling, he thought about the flaming plume he held... the heat it gave, without scorching him. The light it bloomed, without blinding him.
Similarly, Jharak was thinking of the plume as well. No doubt that the elixir schist drank was an accelerator, designed to boost the potential energy usage in spells.
Readjusting himself on the flaky grass, Jharak noticed how even trees on the other side of the meadow had still been sapped of their energy, crumbling down worse than they looked before. The boy had the magical control of an adept with two years intensive training, something which no potion could grant.
As Jharak Intently watched the boy, it became apparent schist was inquisitive, perhaps more thoughtful than any slave should be. That, coupled with a sense of obedience might make for the perfect training conditions.
The Alliance always needs new skilled mages, and the boy didn't appear afflicted in any way to the 'king' of Almaria. No doubt the Arch Mage will be impressed with the boys ability, despite the loss of what may have been an Artifact.
And if the Arch Mage is pleased, that means more rewards! Definitely perfect.
"Schist, we must make leave now. I'll be taking you to the Alliance side, to the Ya'ru Springs. There you will not be bound as a slave."
Schist looked as if he was thinking about the statement, before realising it wasn't a question. Pocketing the remaining nuts, they both stood up and abandoned the meadow, to lands which Schist had never seen.
~~~
Proudly, his Scythe swayed in a figure eight, the heavy head taking minimal effort to continually glide through the air. The man in Suede took lead in front of the Adept, striding down the cobble road that lead away from karkun. He would have called a caravan, but he knew that they would not venture into the forest, and hiring a Mech-Unit would require about half an hours paper work.
Stepping off the road to bypass a steel coal car, laden with goods, he breathed in deep. The burning in his lungs felt nasty, but it was basically the same as smoking a pipe. He looked over at the adept lagging behind, probably intentionally.
"Right, so where now mage, off the road yet?"
The adept didn't reply, instead stopped next to the man in suede. Clicking the tar-stained tongue in his mouth in annoyance, he repeated his query.
"Where to now mage? did they leave the road near here?"
Without a word, the adept turned off into the sparsely leaved forest at the side of the roadway. Fist clenched tightly around the hearth-wood handle of his Scythe, he began trekking into the bush as well. Now that he was looking so as not to trip up, the heavy outlines of mechanical footprints and now fading feet imprints were obvious.
For half an hour they walked, slowly following the faded tracks. Anger built up within the man at the adept, who was sluggish in his movements. Calming himself down first, he tapped on the mage's shoulder. Stopping imdediatly, the hooded figure turned around, no face showing under the garments.
"Ok, you've been paid more than enough to get your job done, but urgency beckons that we move faster."
The man in Suede eyed up the strange hooded figure, who was simply standing there. Little gears lost traction in his head, his face turning a shade maroon.
"...I'm going to lead now, I can see the tracks clear enough. Now you keep up with me!"
Striding ahead of the adept, the man in Suede quickly made lost ground. He snorted to himself when he glanced behind him, and the adept was following, albeit distantly. He loved the idea of being the one focused on.
Glowing brightly, night began to fall across the forest. Smog crept into the darkening meadow as water floods over cobbles on a street. Thin tendrils developed and filled out, diffusing into the natural air. Even in the rapidly darkening dusk, the man in suede could make out the burn marks on the ground.
For probably the first time, the adept flinched. The man was not looking at the time however.
"Right, so it looks like the slave and tree man 'Jharak' stopped here, probably for lunch or a rest. We should as well."
They sat down in the crackly, burnt grass. Staring at the adept for a few seconds, the man clicked his fingers to grab attention.
"I need a bedroll, water and some dinner! Make it now."
The adept didn't move for a short period, before pulling out the glass orb from his crossed arms. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the man in suede just noticed how slender the mage's hands were. His eyes were drawn back to the orb as it began to glow.
A blob of brown aura collected above the orb, and solidified into perfect, uniform loaf of bread. Another blob resembling a pale blue goblet formed, and filled itself with water. Lastly, a transparent blue thread appeared in the air. Weaving itself, it became first a bundle of cloth, then a sleeping roll.
Impressed, the man raised his eyebrows, but did little else. Taking the floating objects out of the air, he sat on his bed while dining on bread and water. The adept did not take anything.
"Impressive, but I can do a few things myself you know."
The adept was silent, as usual. Feeling the energy in the ring around his finger, the man sighted a branch off in the distance. Motioning at the stick, it slowly dragged itself over the ground. Reaching it's destination between the two people, the man put the ring up close to the branch.
"Fire"
A single spark spat out of the ring, and began a small smouldering smoke on the branch.
Grinning like a kid showing off a new trick, he tried to gauge the adept's reaction. He was unresponsive. The smile dropped off his face. Nothing, not even a slight raise of the head. He supposed he wasn't expecting much, but surely the adept would be slightly surprised a business man would know magic?
"I wonder how far to Ya'ru Jharak is now?"
~~~
*pshh sph* *pshh sph* *pshh spldge* *pshh splode* *pshh splode*
Looking down at the mud slop running down the Steam suit's feet, Steve regretted not walking around the ponds in the area. The sun was leaving the sky fast, and the sheer darkness of the native country land outweighed the shady city mist nights in blackness.
The trail of footsteps was clearer in the mucky grim of the bog, although it vanished numerous times near the edges of ponds. The pair may have rested back at the meadow, but that was several hours ago. Ever since, the terrain had been dark, temperate forestlands.
Steve knew the swamp marked the borderlands to alliance territory. Mech-Units and even Universal Terrain Vehicles, or UTV's had trouble dealing with the varying, ruffled waves of dirt and mud, coupled with swampy vestiges in between.
Likewise, the forest from here back to the cities were dead or decaying. The tree people can't use magic well in the decrepit woods as they get their energy from nature. The swamps proved to be the optimal mid-ground.
Crossing the divide in the first place shows how easy it is for an elite solider to get through the wood patrols. Heck, Steve didn't even come across any. They could run over at any minute and blockade the roads.
This was concerning, both for the safety of the cities, but also for revenge the tree people might enact upon the people. Those cannibals eat nature to fuel their magic, and live in barbaric conditions.
Grabbing one of the mechanical feet, a vine grasped firmly onto Steve's Suit. Hopping on one foot, he tried to snap the plant with pushes and pulls, but only succeeded in tripping over. Slipping a steel finger under the offending vine, he crushed it, rendering it useless.
The sloppy, wet mud and weed stuck to his front, and dribbled down his legs and into the hydraulics in the legs. Some of the grime made it through the mouth guard, oozing over his lips. This stuff is the disgusting garbage of nature. This was probably the third time that had happened, slowing progress down to a crawl.
Still flogging through the swamp, black smoke mingling into the somewhat clear night sky, he pulled the sword off his back. Swishing it slowly through a bush to clean of stray mud drops, he held it against his shoulder. He should have it out all the time past this point: strange creatures roamed the land.
~~~
Utterly tired, Schist nearly fainted when Jharak stopped. The land was blanketed in darkness, and little specks of yellow gold spangled in the sky. They had just managed to cross a great bog, and now were fully covered in silty mud. Schist could not see anything, except for an eerie glow in Jharak's eyes.
Neither of the pair could see any trees. Instead, they were on a silent, grassy plain, although two sets of tree lines could be seen in the distance, both back and forwards.
"Ok, we will set camp here for the night. I will stay guard and protect you."
Schist looked up at Jharak, his eyes, clear emeralds shining alone in the dark. They didn't project light, but they could be seen easily.
"*huf-puf* Why, are your eyes like that Jharak? *huf* And what do you mean by protect?"
The floating eyes in a sea of darkness made a questioning look, until Jharak realised what the child had meant.
"Oh, I can capture and intensify light through 'mirrors' at the back of my eyes. It helps me see at night. I need to protect you as monsters roam the lands between the swamp and Ya'ru."
"What's Ya'ru?"
Jharak looked around, the bright floating eyes burning an after image into Schist's memory, making it hard to see anything else. They lowered themselves, before disappearing.
Schist wandered if he had just fallen asleep, when he felt magic flowing around him. A soft glow emitted from blanket wrapping itself around Schist, lighting up the ground around him. The comfortable blanket was warm, soft and luxrious to the slave.
In the mild light of the aura, he could see Jharak stand up again, his hands held together. Again, Schist felt energy flow towards Jharak, the energy of the gentle wind and it's blown grass. Schist heard a whisper, at the back of his head. Concentrating, he tried to listen to it.
"You are sleek, beautiful and strong.... the energy you will hold shall fly arrows deep into evil's heart..."
Struggling to listen to the faint murmuring, Schist noticed a glow forming in Jharak's hands. A bow, sleek and beautiful as the voice described, took shape.
For the next few minutes, a silence of understanding spread between the two. Shifting their position, the eyes focussed on the darkness rather than Schist.
"Ya'ru is a sacred ground of the Elven society. It is the most pure natural site on all of Almaria, and contains some of the cleanest springs, as well as the oldest trees in the world.
We don't mine, log or burn if we can help it. All the hamlettes and towns around the ground focus on tending for natures critters, and cultivating food and wine. We are one with nature. It is the most perfect world."
"When we reach the Ya'ru, you will realise what I mean. Until then, sleep. I will not let you be disturbed."
Turning over, the child stopped thinking, stopped running, and rested. Volleys of wind buffeted the pair, although it's power was sapped into the aura bow and blanket for energy.
"If I'm going to get any reward, I mustn't let any harm befall this child. Bah, but it's worth it."
---
Part 5!
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
I used to have toes
I have exciting ideas for the next part. I'll start that today.
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.
Wow. That's wonderful. You clearly have a lot of talent and I would not be surprised to see you as one of the top novel writers in the near future.
I used to have toes
GENERATION OVAR 9000!!!!!!!!: The first time you see this, copy it into your sig on any forum and add 1 to the generation.
Bow still in hand, he had been up for perhaps three hours. It was impossible to tell with only stars to navigate by. The rustling Wilder-Wort hid beneath the flowing blades, their tiny pale yellow flowers visible to Jharak's enhanced vision.
The wind blew stronger, unusually so. Looking over the waves of billowing blades, he saw a dark splodge against the pale green sea, moving away from the mire he crossed earlier. It's camouflage was suited more for the dense overgrowth of the bog than the plains.
Sensing disturbance, Jharak's Bow began collecting ambient energy and constructed an arrow. The creature was not far away, but it's mud-covered bulk defied classification. Jharak watched it for a few minutes, noting it's lumbering movements across the plain. Then it raised it's head, a pair of shiny crimson eyes latched onto Jharak's own.
"Holy damn."
With a characteristic, rumbling roar, it revealed itself as a Vark: a half ton of warthog charging straight for Jharak. Not wishing for the child to be trampled, he ran off to the side, the glow in his eyes turning the Vark. Without stopping, he raised his bow, arrow glowing fiercely.
With a brilliant flash, the projectile pierced through hide and hair, severing links in it's burly right foreleg. Blinded by the sudden light, the beast wobbled, allowing Jharak to roll out of the way. Only at close quarters could he see a pair of stained ivory tusks, short but deadly, on it's lowered head.
The bulk crashed to a halt, the injured leg collapsing under it. The fight was not over however. Picking itself up, it made a slow turn, and pawed the ground. Magic arrows might be more powerful than wooden ones, but the Vark was mammoth in size.
Jharak decided on a tactic. He rapidly pulled water out of the ground, abundant due to the grasslands low lying nature. The Vark charged again, running for Jharak once more.
Pulling the water into a foot-wide ball, he muttered under his breath.
"Compress and attack."
The ball shrank to the size of a fist, then shot like a bullet towards the charging train of the beast. Collision was imminent.
*CRACK*
Cringing, Jharak, moved out of the way as the mass of flesh pounded into the ground, uprooting grass. Walking up to the body, he put his hand in front of it's snout. It was still breathing.
No doubt the beast was still alive, if concussed. Wasting no time, Jharak checked on Schist, noting he was still asleep. Picking up the aura blanket he was in, they started their journey to the second tree line in the distance.
The hog left on the plains stirred in it's deep sleep, twitching in the cold wind.
~~~
Whizzz.... Whiiizzzzz....
Whiiizzzzzzzzzz....
Cursing, the Knight could not raise his foot out of the coagulated mud. Various tree roots tangled around the steel boot prevented any lifting motion out of the mire. The powerful joint motors on his knee's could not snap the blanket of plants the Knight had lodged his foot into.
Tired from conscious walking without the ability to fall asleep, the Knight grew annoyed with the delay. Opening the intake latch of his furnace pack, the roaring fire within became audible. Taking the awkward great blade from off his shoulders, he stuck the tip into furnace.
Glowing bright white, the steel tip contrasted the midnight black of the rest off the blade. Removing the now painfully hot sword, he sliced deep into the twined roots around his foot. The roots burned up immediately, shrinking away. The mud cracked and dried, freeing his foot from all ensnarement.
Finally free, the Knight stepped out of the murky mire with a crusty slurp. Testing the joint's to see if there was any damage, the Knight's foot slipped back into the empty hole in the mud. With a pathetic hop, he slammed face first into the pool, sticky earth seeping in through the visor.
Fuming, he lifted himself out, taking a breath of the slightly stagnant air. The silt oozed slowly down the front of his armour, collecting in any crease or joint. Slapping the still burning sword on his armour, he dried up the mud before it cramped up the systems.
The grimy, reeking mess of nature made the Knight sicken a little in his suit. Whilst tree's and plants are interesting, land like this held almost no value.
Continuing forward, with only a tinge of light from stars and the furnace on his back, he trodded on to the end of the mire. It must have been a long time, as he was wretchedly tired, his back clicking with every turn in the suit. Opening out onto a flowing grassland, he cheered to himself within his head.
He could see a vast plain ahead, with another tree line over that. Sword ready, he carefully navigated the field, avoiding the occasional holes and rabbit burrows. He was surprised to hear a low rumble as he trekked the grasslands. Whipping his head around, he sighted a dark mass of flesh on the ground not far away, a pair of dull red eyes glowing back.
Sword at the ready, he eyed the beast, hazy in the darkness. It lay on the ground, apparently injured, a puddle of blood lying on the ground. Being deprived of sleep, the Knight did not wish to engage in battle. walking on, the beast let out a casual grunt.
He almost felt sorry for the thing, just left on the ground on it's own. Sure, it was a monster, but it didn't seem like a threat at the moment. Ignoring the beast, he went forward, to hear a roar from behind.
It was all the knight could do to hold his sword in a side-ways block position as the hog-like beast charged. With a tremendous clash, the boar's tusks hooked right under the Knight's sword, lifting the suit off the ground, clearing the long billowing grass below. Unable to stop, the beast surged forward carrying the full weight of the suit despite it's injury, trying to throw the weight over it's back.
Holding onto the sword with the intense grip of hydraulic steel fingers, the Knight swang his legs together, throwing the beast's centre of gravity off. Keeling to the right, it collapsed with a *THUD* for the second time that night, the Knight falling down backwards along with it.
Disorientated, The Knight picked himself up, straining the hydraulics on his suit to do it as fast as possible. The beast snarled, trying to raise itself up as well. Both stood up in a stance, the boar pawing the ground, the knight holding the huge midnight blade diagonally down from his right hand, the left hand ready to help shift his weight.
With a thundering roar, by far the loudest, the beast's glowing crimson eyes lunged forwards. With a burst of steam from the suit, the sword flew upwards into the beast's skull. The crunch resounded across the wind-blown plains, echoing into the night.
Pulling the sword out, Steve was unable to look at the dead animal. Crushing guilt poured onto him, that he had killed something that seemed so intelligent, that this was the first beast he had killed before.
So much training, so much skill, yet his head was spinning at the thought of murder. Gulping, he knew he needed rest, and food. Opening the rations compartment at the bottom of his furnace pack, he pulled out the dry, hot biscuits inside and ate them under his visor.
Realising how stupid it would be to auto-walk through the forest up ahead of him, he slept in a standing position, bloody sword out in case of attack. Dozing off, stabs of regret prevented him from deep sleep.
~~~
Sleeping soundly in the bedroll, the man in Suede looked like a baby curled up in it's blanket. A helpless, evil little baby. The adept looked on at the man with distain, noting the man's affection for his stolen Scythe. A truly powerful weapon in the hands of an imbecile.
Of course, reclaiming the weapon should be easy, but the adept would take no chances. He must be combat tested, but without provoking suspicion.
"Hmm, let's try a dream battle..."
Thirsty and hungry, the adept pulled out the crystal. Holding it close to himself, he absorbed it's magic subconsciously, fulfilling both his needs, as well as his sleep. Such a useful toy, if a costly - and morally ambiguous - one to make.
Looking back at the man, still tucked in the blanket, the mage held the orb over him. Humming to himself, he began mentally chanting incantations. The man in Suede rolled unwillingly in the blanket, as if avoiding the magic.
As the incantations got deeper the mage began muttering, then singing to himself over the man, who was now rejecting the spell, attempting to wake up.
Reality blended away for the mage, fading into a dark abyss. The man's rolling stopped, completely thoughtless at the time.
Floating in the abyss, the mage looked around, still in his cloak mentally.
"let me change that, I am a dragon, light and slender... my wings propel me to the skies effortlessly..."
The mage's voice, soft and calming, perpetrated the void. Instantly, he morphed into a glowing silver, thin and vaporous dragon. Fins on it's short fore and back legs showed it to be a water reptile, but still maintained wings. Surprised at the fins, the former mage looked at them curiously.
"Hmpf, guess I can't erase my heritage. I am standing on a cloud, in a vast sea of vapour, with nothing but air below..."
The abyss cleared, leaving the dragon stranded on a vast, open sky of clouds, as far as the eye can see. Bouncing from one to another, the dragon considered the place optimal, although noted the ocean below.
"Dangerous, if he remembers this dream and retells it, an experienced mage might find out who I am. I suppose it's too late now for indecision however.
Looking up into the ethereal sky, glowing without a sun, he closed his eyes.
"You may come in."
Instantly, the man in Suede appeared opposite the dragon, looking around in shock. He was dressed as he was while sleeping, Scythe in hand.
"Who are you! Why are you in my head, get out!"
Smiling, the dragon did not speak. Instead, large claws grew out it's comparatively small arms. Still shocked, the man held the Scythe double handed, frightened by the animal floating in front of him.
With a sudden glare, the mythical creature powered it's way to the man, who cried out in fear, before slashing with the deadly weapon. Missing by over a metre, the dragon simply flew over the man, who was white as chalk.
"Demon! You are in my head! I control this place, not you!"
Instead, the dragon lunged at him again. Concentrating, the man leapt out, swinging confidently at the creature. Shrieking, the dragon landed, part of it's belly missing like it had simply disappeared.
"So he's easy to startle, but a fast learner. This might be an issue."
"Aha! I got you demon! You are nothing compared to me!"
The dragon swirled around in the air, before making a diagonal aerial attack. The mage felt his strength diminish at the man's confidence, whilst the Sycthe gleamed with sharpness.
With a fell swoop, the dragon's claws cut through the man, dissipating his arm. At the same time, the man severed one of the dragon's wings, rendering it flightless.
Their injuries were painless, but every hit sapped strength from the crystal orb, lying on top of the two sleeping bodies in a grassy meadow.
Claws out, the dragon unleashed a melee fury, taking short jumps to leap and dodge the man's swipes, an intense battle of untold proportions.
Only a minute in, the dragon jumped away, looking at a ghostly half man. Missing an arm, part of his head and a calf, he was in a better state than the dragon's missing wings, whole leg and lower jaw. Realising his loss, the mage decided to call it a draw.
The man in suede laughed victoriously at the fleeing dragon, holding up the Scythe in glee.
"You cannot beat me, Lord Eryk of South Karkun!"
With a quickstep, the man ran two handed at the dragon, a fatal swoop.
"Not in your world I can't, but you shall not remember me by morning. Halt the dream."
Everything faded back to the black abyss, before opening up to reality. Picking himself up from the slouched position on top of the man, still asleep, the adept recollected the fast fading events. Shortly after, he reclaimed the magic orb which had rolled away.
Closing his eye's, he meditated until dawn, with Eryk left to dream of something else to erase the night's memory.
~~~
Part 6!
A simple suggestion on geology here.
~~~
Slaves of the Coal Mine
An interesting Novel to pass the time.