A Chronicle (524 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 0.5 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Astropath (View user info) at 2005-09-21 02:03:33 EDT
I'll be the first to admit it: I'm a big geek. I've always been a fan of fantasy literature, and have been playing D & D for most of my life, on and off, since I was 14. I remember seeing on here a really neat series of stories based in Warhammer 40K, and so in that vein, I'd like to submit the first chapter in a fantasy-based series. Other writers are welcome to expand upon it, write their own continuations/ adaptations, etc...so here it is...
I look back at my companions through a gust of snow, their forms hunkered down against the cold and wind at that mountain pass. Five days had passed of our eleven day patrol, and we had seen no sign of the bandits said to be plaguing that area. We had initially set out under the command of Captain Belgrave, as we had on countless other patrols. Unfortunately, our numbers were soon to dwindle. The captain fell to an ogre club in an ambush at Blackfen. We rallied and destroyed the beasts, but it was too late for our patrol commander. We now found ourselves redirected to the mountains surrounding our city, tasked with hunting these bandits, and discovering their base of operations if possible. As simple as that might seem, it would prove to be no easy task. We hunted those roving bands, until their strength seemed to be part of a larger entity. Thus was the truth revealed. The heretofore unexplored lands to the east harbored a civilization unknown to us. Their leader hostile and bent on conquest, we found ourselves to be both the first bulwark of our defense, as well as the vanguard of our nation's response. Amid the snows of that first year, we dispatched a messenger back to the capital to request additional resources. This seemed to be, in retrospect, the opening of what would later be termed the Bargrah Campaign. Two years later,we, the remnants of that original patrol, stood over the headless body of the enemy leader in a small forest glade. We had moved to his yurt to glean what we could of intelligence concerning his movements and troop dispositions, but found only an infant. Swadled in the rough blankets of his father, he lay passive and alert, his dark eyes inquisitive. Our priest, a Brother of Tyr, declared that even if his father's crimes had been objectionable, the babe himself had not yet sinned. His god had revealed to him in dreams, the priest confided in us, that the boy's destiny held something remarkable.Thus it was that we adopted that child of a murdered warlord.
The child traveled with us, and under our protection as we began the long, torturous journey home. Brave Baldwyn and keen-eyed Magda fell at Three Peak Pass, laid low by giant-thrown stones that struck them before we managed to erect our defenses. We lost Petra to the unfathomable gulf beneath Silcus Span. She fell as we were assailed there by gargoyles. A full year it took us to retrace our steps, through various perils, and we now found ourselves in that same snow-shrouded mountain pass that we had trod 3 years earlier. We moved with an ease and lightness of heart we had not felt in some time, and soon reached the flowered meadow at the foot of the mountain. It was high summer as we approached the gates. If we did not notice the hostile glare of the guards, it was simply because we were overjoyed to be home. We mistook the alien heraldry to be pennants of an upcoming festival. Things, however, had changed in our absence, and we became wary. We decided to disperse in order to learn more about the current lay of the land...
Robyn moved with practiced ease through the noonday market crowd. His racing heart, however, betrayed his anxieties. He cursed himself for a fool at having elected to enter the city with the rest of his patrol. "Stupid halfling", he berated himself inwardly, "stupid little thief". Sweat beaded on his hooded brow. He sensed the men weaving nonchalantly through the crowd behind him. Though they wore no uniform, Robyn had them made for what they were: guardsmen. He grudgingly admired the initiative that had spawned men such as these, even as his mind raced for a way to shake them. It went without saying, of course, that Robyn's contact would vanish at the first sign of trouble. As his eyes roved the market square, he decided on a farmer's cart, laden and moving slowly toward the East Gate. The thief cast a last wary glance over his shoulder, and began to dodge and weave through the press of bodies toward the cart. Having been temporarily obscured from the view of his pursuers, Robyn hopped lightly onto the back of the cart, and wrapped his cloak tightly about himself. In this way did he hope to pass himself off as just another sack of produce. He waited tense moments, forcing his body to relax enough to look natural as the cart bumped and bounced over the cobblestones, sweat streaming down his face. At any moment, he expected to feel rough hands grab him and throw him to the ground. He whispered a quick thanks to his god when they did not, however. Hazarding a glance from beneath his hood, Robyn slipped noiselessly from the back of the cart as it trundled down a side street. He melted into the shadows, and began the circuitous route back to the rendez-vous point. He would be much more cautious this time.
"Things have changed m'boy", Old Nose stated uselessly. Robyn rolled his eyes inwardly, but feigned interest nonetheless. Old Nose had been with the guild since they formed, and would likely know of their whereabouts now. The guild in turn would have an ear to the ground about current events in the city. A slight annoyance in Robyn's eyes was the fact that the grizzled old thief tended to ramble on at times. At the very least, Old Nose would know where to find Kaliris. If anyone was still around, it would the elven assassin. Rumours abound, however, that Kaliris was the wretched mole who brought about the downfall of the guild.
User Reviews
Submitted by Astropath (user info) at 2005-09-21 12:54:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Ok, kaos, thanks for your constructive criticism. I' ve never been that great with dialogue, but I know what you mean about the characters. I should wanted to get the point across that the patrol had been whittled down, I guess. The halfling thief is my favorite, so future installments should be more involving; they'll focus on him.
Submitted by Barnymeinhoff (user info) at 2005-09-21 05:00:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
plus 1 for style.....dont give up.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2005-09-21 04:32:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
*sigh*
Okay Astropath, let's get a few things out in the open. I write Horror and Dark Fantasy myself, so I'm not about to slice you up for the material. It was the delivery. EVERYTHING about it...
1 - You shouldn't have posted the little paragraph at the beginning. The vultures will pick out your eyes for that one. If you have something like that you really feel you need to say, sat it in a review after you post it.
2 - Too many characters and not enough to make us care. So a bunch of people with funny names died? So what? We never got to know them.
3 - Break your paragraphs up more. That first one was painful to get through. Actually, most of it was. It read like a manual. You needed to pepper it with more dialogue.
This wasn't a bad post. I have to say that I hate traditional Fantasy, and this was definitely that, but if done well, I still would hand out a plus two. This just had too many issues.