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Post by Flax on Mar 16, 2004 20:18:19 GMT -5
The king went to his meeting hall with haste, saluting briefly the guards and the other inhabitants of the castle. He wouldn’t need them anyway after the event of this night. How exciting it was to think of how powerful he would be! He started dreaming about the great united kingdom he would found. There, the land was green and lush and the great cities were shining, for they were covered with precious metals and gems. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how wrong he was. Suddenly, the dreamer awoke as he slammed into a guard. The latter, fearing for his life, backed away launching a myriad of apologies. But the king couldn’t care less: he wanted to get to the hall and nothing else mattered. He started his fast pace again, his footsteps resounding through the hollow corridors of his immense citadel. He finally stopped at the huge doors considering what the daemon lord had promised him. He then remembered the scene; he, Pelor son of Zalor, was on his wind swept balcony, his precious crown in his hands. It was then that he saw the flaming creature flying toward him at great speed. At first, he retreated to his room, but then his mind was filled with rich and warm words, promises of immense power and glory. How could the ruler of a fading nation refuse such an offer? Shaking off this first encounter from his head, he pushed the massive doors and beheld the beast of fire once more. Without any words or ceremony, the daemon gave power and the eager king received it with opened arms. But there was a flaw in his plan, a flaw that shattered his dream. He screamed as his hands became skeletal, and when the transformation reached his throat, the screams became horrid shrieks. But there was one sound louder then the screams of the man: it was the laughter of the daemon. The creature never had this much amusement in ten thousand years. And it was only the beginning.
N.B.: This is not a new roleplay thread, just prose.
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Post by Banzai Kamikaze on Mar 16, 2004 21:11:27 GMT -5
Didn't I already read this story somewhere? Or is my memory going mad? Anyway, do you want to continue your story in this thread for all of us to enjoy, or was this just an improvised prose?
I also did a Powerpoint story (with music) last week, with nearly the same title as you ! I might upload it if someone is interested (it's just the two first chapters). It's a science-fiction project I undertook when I had time.
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Post by Flax on Mar 16, 2004 21:14:49 GMT -5
Cool, please do post it. And yes you already saw this and corrected it about a year ago or someting like that.
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Aficenos
Childish Geek
enjoy!!!!
Posts: 69
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Post by Aficenos on Mar 16, 2004 21:20:51 GMT -5
Wow Carl has time..... ;D
No realy nice text Flax. I could easily say it is ten times better than the book I am actually reading written by Elain Cunningham.
Continue the good work
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Post by Flax on Apr 7, 2004 19:44:33 GMT -5
20 years later...
The land was green and full of life, the sound of many animals could normally be heard, but this day a few sounds dominated those of the wild life. The ringing of steel, the screams and a few explosions could be heard in this seemingly peaceful region, but since the rise of the lich king, twenty yeas ago, no one had know peace.
The battle was raging, the brave men and women of Oaerht were fighting at their best, but they were hard pressed against the untiring undead. The skeletal abominations didn't stop for their wounds or to sleep. The old man on the hill watched the battle under him with a grim face. He hated being useless, but he couldn't do anything while the enemy was engaged in melee, short of engaging enemy spellcasters, necromancers, but none of them was in sight, something was amiss. Then he spotted a group of archers moving to flank his troops, he pointed his staff of power at the group and started chanting. As the incantation was completed a ball of fire emerged from the tip of his staff and flew into the unsuspecting archers. Following the fiery explosion nothing was left save a smoldering crater.
Lorenthar smiled with satisfaction and turned around asking his apprentice to guard the rear of the hill. Returning his focus to the battle raging before him and didn’t see any openings for his spells, but he did hear light footsteps behind him. He turned around once again to ask his apprentice what the blaze was going on and got his answer in the form of a short blade entering his chest. The old man gasped and tried to formulate a last incantation before his death but it only came out as a gurgle of blood.
The apprentice, Vashor, took the Great Staff Of Many Flames from the still twitching corpse and felt a sort of pride and elation. He started laughing, it had been all too easy, his master had been a fool, how could he have not known of the possibility of betrayal? The answer was so very simple and yet it never crossed his ambitious mind.
Vashor was awakened from his thoughts by a low and raspy cough, before turning around he looked upon the battlefield, the human army was fleeing while their friends' corpses were turned into undead things by necromancers. He finally turned meeting the cold gaze of a man in simple dark robes. The man’s flesh was of a pale complexion, at his belt, which was adorned with a bestial skull, he wore a long and slim dagger coated in poison and an ebony wand, seemingly made from charred bones twisted together. It was a necromancer, the supposed enemy of the living.
“Zo you are the boy that wizhez to help uz, yez?” The dark man asked with his nasal accent.
“Ye… Yes” Vashor stammered out, truly shaken by the amount of power radiating from his interlocutor.
“Give me the ztaff and you zhall be rewarded” The response came with a wide smile.
“Here you go, take the damn thing and give me what I deserve for my accomplishment.”
“Of course…” Vashor was grinning , he had done it. His late master had been wrong, these dark characters were not so bad. Without doubt, his line of thoughts changed as he glimpse his “reward”: A flying dagger that cut him in the shoulder. It was only a minor wound but he felt a more dangerous enemy in him. Slowly the world became a haze, fell on the ground face first and quite dead. He had been the fool.
After a few minutes he rose beside the form of his late master and both of them joined the ranks of the skeletal army. The undead force never wasted bodies.
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