Bladeraver (pt44) (262 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.75 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Tactile Ire (View user info) at 2007-04-02 18:43:33 EDT
The spider's fangs swept down, following his path as he kept rolling right under the beast. The spider stopped with its head lowered, its reaching fangs naked in the air beneath its body. It started to shift its feet. It had no time to complete the movement.
The Mantling found himself flat on the loam staring up at the belly of the beast. He surged to his feet and sent his twin blades hacking into the soft carapace in short chops - slicing through heart and lungs. The spider died and dropped, falling straight down. The man kept chopping with his brutal weapons to break free of his kill - erupting from the middle of its back in a spray of yellowish blood.
He hop-rolled forwards and came up brandishing his weapons. He felt his fear coursing through him. He felt it and fought on anyway. It gave his sight a new edge, his movements a lift of speed. His head was strangely clear as his life-long battle to throttle and control the writhing serpent of his emotions was swept away. Instead, he balanced in harmony with himself. The still warrior's centre was an unassailable fortress within him. He stood at the core of himself as easily and naturally as breathing.
If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration. If he brings this fiercely aware yet suspended state to those things that make up his self-awareness. If he finds the place where identity is suspended in the breathing moment between breaths. Then there his ingrained training is allowed to filter through his intellect and will to power. There, emotions can flow on and past him, honing the edge without weakening the blade of his skill.
There a man can become...deadly.
The third worgspider charged him. He stepped inside the reaching, grasping legs. With contemptuous ease he parried the right, then lifted his leg and drove his climbing-spiked boot hard into the joint of the left, all in conscious imitation of his father's actions those many moons ago. The spider shifted backward and then burst forward, knocking him in the chest, sending them both to the ground. As the deadly fangs sought his chest he set legs against underbelly, using his strength and mass he boosted the creature up. The arachnid lifted spinning into the air and as it fell, short stabbing blades arced up to meet it.
The Mantling stepped away from the two bodies. He breathed.
His intention had been to abandon the refugees here. To use their deaths to distract these arachnids and get away. But now he could see that decision for what it was. Not the cold decision of a man focused on survival but rather a fear-induced flight from these demons of his childhood. He turned his thoughts back towards the river - praying to his long dead father for forgiveness.
Here and now, for the first time since his father died, he was going to attempt more than mere survival.
*
The last few soldiers struggled up the slippery slope as Drewhldt laid down suppressing fire. Through the incandescent flames he caught glimpses of the ten or so warriors left below. They were engaged with the enemy at close quarters. Taking what lives they could. Sacrificing their own so that those now climbing might hope to make the crest alive. The men down on the creek bed cried and swore and screamed and bled out as Drew's flamepole sputtered and died. Out of alcofuel. Out of time.
The men were off the rope now and forming up, half the men taking a position along the ridge with blades drawn, the rest of them just behind armed with bows. Arjl shouted commands, men leapt to obey. Drewhldt suppressed a sigh as he drew his canopyblade. This was no good. There was no way they could hold this ridgeline. The spiders could just head down the creek-bed and flank them. Or if they rushed the slope en mass, the line was too thin to hold. Drew's mind shied from counting the defender's meagre numbers. His eye refused to rest on the broken bodies strewn for yard after yard, both up and down the creek-bed.
"C'mon, you fucknuckles!" he roared, "I haven't got all falling day!"
A ragged chuckle greeted his words as the spiders started up the slope.
The Mantling sprinted away from the creek. If his bearings were right. If he knew where he was then - there. A small broken thing lay on the ground. Just past it was another, and another. His right-hand blade spun up into his grip as he crouched over the thing and began cutting.
The spiders ignored their defences and bounded up the slope. A weak rain of arrows met them, felling a couple. Tens more came on. At the crest they were met with men in as tight a formation as their long canopyblades would allow. Drewhldt faced down the slope at one of the charging beasts. As it neared it reared up onto the back six legs. Drewhldt stepped into the assault, backhanding his sword up and across his body. The spider was lifted backwards to topple into the animal behind it. Drewhldt stepped back from the lip and turned his blade into the flank of the beast to his right.
The initial charge faltered as the men - enjoying a height advantage for the first time - hacked into approaching legs and heads. Several spiders died, sounding their cracking, breaking calls for the last time. The living spiders pulled back and began to circle around. Most of the monsters went to the left or right. A few stayed on point guard.
As the first beast made the top of the slope, out of sword range of the tightly packed men, Arjl sent two arrows into its compound eyes. It sounded off and staggered. A young skirmisher made to move forward - sword raised to finish it off. "HOLD THAT LINE!" Arjl roared as he spun to the other side. More worgspiders were appearing there.
It would be over soon. Once they made flat ground in numbers the last ragged defenders would be torn apart. Arjl cursed as he shot glances back and forth.
*
Running till his breath burned in tired lungs and knees threatened to buckle. His stride was inefficient as he twisted and massaged the wet bundle in his hands. He was going to be too late. He was already too late. He opened his stride into a sprint. The wet thing was as ready as he could make it. Time for more speed. But he could feel himself slowing. His body was rebelling against the abuse. Reaching the end if its resources. Anger rose in his mind. He relaxed emotional controls that had been atrophied in place and let it come. His anger was a deep well of energy. His legs found new speed.
He burst from the underbrush at the edge of the river. On the far side of the defile, hulking grey forms were tearing into a pathetically small group of men. The beasts were densely packed around the shrinking core of humans. With one last burst of effort the Mantling dropped his head and shoulders down over his lead foot as he took his next stride. Stepping through he pulled his head back up, followed by body and extended arm. He launched up on his toe and whipped through with the arm, throwing the wet packet high with all his momentum and might.
"Incoming!" he screamed, hoping someone there would understand.
Arjl's restless gaze lifted from the battling ranks, flitted past the figure on the far bank and locked onto the thrown object. The shout broke across them and almost reflexively the old man pulled his bow, sighted along the flight line, took an inward breath, held it and let fly at the soaring target.
The arrow hit the mant poison sac above the ranks of the worgspiders. The pheromnemonic coded into it by the Mantling as he ran sprayed into the air. <Cease/Desist> showered across the encroaching worgspiders.
The beasts halted and wavered back and forth for a handful of heartbeats. Ahead of them was live prey, close enough to take with no effort. But they were released from their orders - free to follow their own instincts - and they remembered the abundant food now cooling in the river behind them. First one, then another, then the whole pack descended into the creek-bed to feed, calling to each other in a cacophony of splintering wood.
The Mantling faced Arjl across the divide. Their eyes met. Arjl gave the briefest of nods and looked away.
User Reviews
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2007-04-04 16:11:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kicker of all ass looks like this.
+2
they are awesome.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-04-03 18:37:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this is great! I'll have to get reading...
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2007-04-03 18:36:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration. If he brings this fiercely aware yet suspended state to those things that make up his self-awareness. If he finds the place where identity is suspended in the breathing moment between breaths. Then there his ingrained training is allowed to filter through his intellect and will to power. There, emotions can flow on and past him, honing the edge without weakening the blade of his skill.
There a man can become...deadly.
To
If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration, if he brings this fiercely aware yet suspended state to those things that make up his self-awareness, if he finds the place where identity is suspended in the breathing moment between breaths, then there his ingrained training is allowed to filter through his intellect and will to power; there, emotions can flow on and past him, honing the edge without weakening the blade of his skill.
There a man can become...deadly.
What you had before was a series of unpleasant sentence fragments. 'If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration' is not a sentence, it's a clause. While my slightly fixed version is still unpleasant, I didn't want to change your actual text, merely the punctuation. To really fix that you'd need to lighten it up a bit. Maybe find a way to make it two actual sentences.
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-03 18:23:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2007-04-03 10:33:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration. If he brings this fiercely aware yet suspended state to those things that make up his self-awareness. If he finds the place where identity is suspended in the breathing moment between breaths. Then there his ingrained training is allowed to filter through his intellect and will to power. There, emotions can flow on and past him, honing the edge without weakening the blade of his skill.
There a man can become...deadly.
Commas look like this
,
And they are awesome.
________________________________________________________________________
That was a little cryptic.
How would you have re-punctuated that passage?
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2007-04-03 10:33:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration. If he brings this fiercely aware yet suspended state to those things that make up his self-awareness. If he finds the place where identity is suspended in the breathing moment between breaths. Then there his ingrained training is allowed to filter through his intellect and will to power. There, emotions can flow on and past him, honing the edge without weakening the blade of his skill.
There a man can become...deadly.
Commas look like this
,
And they are awesome.
Submitted by genericIntent (user info) at 2007-04-03 10:23:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by rorrim (user info) at 2007-04-03 07:49:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by whiskey_jack (user info) at 2007-04-03 05:46:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hells yeah boi!
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-04-03 05:20:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
yes!
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-04-03 03:54:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by paul_anthony (user info) at 2007-04-02 19:12:47 EDT (#)
--
paul_anthony is a retaliatory -2 bombing faggot
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-04-03 03:21:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was brilliant --->
If a man is concentrating on the act of concentration. If he brings this fiercely aware yet suspended state to those things that make up his self-awareness. If he finds the place where identity is suspended in the breathing moment between breaths. Then there his ingrained training is allowed to filter through his intellect and will to power. There, emotions can flow on and past him, honing the edge without weakening the blade of his skill.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2007-04-03 00:59:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very nice. I was expecting the wet package to explode acid or something but cease/desist was probably more realistic.
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-04-02 21:49:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-04-02 20:52:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Recap parts 1-43 for me, please.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Sure. The recap is in 43 parts, each numbered sequentially and available on my archive.
Enjoy.
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-04-02 21:24:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These are good. Most of the time you don't even need to know what happened before.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-04-02 20:52:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Recap parts 1-43 for me, please.
Submitted by paul_anthony (user info) at 2007-04-02 19:12:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-04-02 18:52:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'se jus' ravin' about this blade, I tells ya!